


Well Suited

by HariWrites



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien Agreste Never Went to Public School, Alternate Universe - Never Met, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Personal Stylist AU, There's a lot more angst than I was expecting...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2019-08-14 16:45:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 48,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16496384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HariWrites/pseuds/HariWrites
Summary: Life is routine for Marinette until the handsome CEO of Black Cat Innovations hires her as his personal stylist. Meanwhile, their best friends try to play Cupid.But, what is Marinette hiding?





	1. Meet

It was the best feeling of the day, kicking off her high heels and sliding her feet into slippers. Marinette let out a pleasured groan as her calf muscles found their natural position once more. She placed the heels on a little shelf by the door and padded across to the kitchen to put the kettle on.

This had become a ritual as soon as she reached her tiny flat every evening. Shoes off and put away, kettle on, wash, put on her pyjamas, make a cup of tea, then sketch while she Facetimed Alya. It was such a habit that she was dumping the tea bag into the bin when her phone trilled.

“Hey, girl. What’s new?” Even Alya’s greeting was the same every day.

She propped her phone up against the pot plant on her coffee table and curled up on the sofa.

“Pinstripes are going to be big this fall.”

Alya scoffed. “Not in fashion! What’s new with you? What’s the gossip? Any sexy new clients?”

She blew across the surface of her tea, considering the last time she had anything new to tell Alya. Her best friend was a news correspondent for TV-5 in America, where her fiance was causing a stir as a DJ. Last she heard he had been booked to play a Kardashian’s birthday party. Meanwhile, Marinette was working day and night to build up her stylist business with little to show for it.

After they arrested Gabriel Agreste for Financial Fraud and his fashion empire crumbled around him, she’d been struggling to find her feet. He got house arrest, while she lost her job, her career progression, her reputation and her confidence. As a promising young junior designer, her name was already being associated with the Gabriel brand. When the truth about his financial dealings came out, she and many others in a similar position found themselves unable to find work with any major fashion house.

After sulking for six months, she used her meagre redundancy payout to start a new business, Lucky Charm Personal Stylists. It had taken almost a year of networking and hustling, but she was finally in a place where clients were coming to her.

“I have new clients, sure, but sexy ones? Not so much.” She told Alya.

“Boo. You need to find a guy, Mari. To help you destress.”

“You have a one-track mind, you know that?”

“Not for that! Although, maybe? I just meant you need someone who will treat you like a princess and distract you from the constant working.”

“I like work.”

She felt the need to defend herself, even though she agreed wholeheartedly with Alya. She spent so much time working, designing and balancing the books she sometimes felt like she was going mad. Just last week, she found herself talking to the ladybug that lived on her pot plant.

“I like work, too, Mari, but there’s more to life. Promise me you’ll flirt a little with the next guy you meet?”

“If I do, will you drop the subject?”

“Until the next time, sure,” Alya conceded.

Eager to move the conversation on to the next topic she asked. “So, when are you and Nino getting married?”

“I don’t know yet. Whenever we can get back to Paris, probably.”

Marinette turned her sketchbook towards the screen to reveal her design for a stylish column dress with simple lace embellishments.

“Well, give me a little warning, I’ll need time to make your dress.”

“Girl, it’s beautiful! I’ll definitely give you a heads up.”

They sat in comfortable silence while Marinette drank her tea and Alya typed up her afternoon report on the latest goings on in American politics. Eventually, she heard a sigh.

“You have to go?” Marinette guessed.

“Sorry, I have to film my report, then file this copy for the website. Speak tomorrow?”

“Always. Love you, Al.”

“Love you, too, Maribug.”

She hung up and wandered into her kitchen. The grumble in her stomach told her she was hungry, but she wasn’t in the mood for much. A vague rummage through the cupboard yielded a plate of baguette, cheese, a few slices of ham and two cookies for afterwards. It would do.

Marinette put the plate next to her laptop and started it up. While she waited, she assembled an open sandwich. Her computer was painfully slow and she knew she should try to troubleshoot it. If it broke down, she couldn’t afford a new one and the lost records alone would be a nightmare to retrieve. Maybe she’d call Max in the morning.

Eventually, she opened her emails and sorted through them. Mostly, they were enquiries from her website and she could respond quickly to them. She cleared her inbox then a new email popped up. She nearly spat bread and cheese over the screen when she saw who had sent it.

Adrien Agreste.

The only person connected to the Agreste name to walk away from the situation unscathed. He was legally and publicly emancipated from his father at the age of sixteen after the pair fell out over the circumstances of his mother's disappearance. If the breakroom gossip was correct, Adrien suspected that his father was more responsible than he claimed, some rumours even going so far as to suggest Gabriel killed her and hid the body under his floor.

Gabriel wasn’t someone who’d ever dress as Santa Claus for the office Christmas party, but murder?! Even with his most recent impropriety, she couldn’t see it. It was a massive jump from white collar crime to that.

What could Adrien Agreste possibly want from her?

She was a stylist. He had grown up in a fashion empire, even been a model until he was old enough to walk away from it all. Surely, of all the people in Paris, he didn’t need advice on what to wear?

Curiosity made her open the email.

  
_Dear, Miss Dupain-Cheng,_

_My name is Adrien Agreste and I need your help. My company, Black Cat Innovations has been awarded a Paris Business Award and I’m due to attend a black-tie event to receive it. Normally, I’m a jeans-and-_ t-shirt _kind of guy and I have no idea what’s required for this dress code. I need advice on everything. I place myself in your capable hands!_

_Please contact me at a suitable time to arrange an appointment._

_Many thanks,_

_Adrien Agreste._

  
He seemed humble and funny. Nothing like his father. It was 9.45 pm, was it too late to call him? Perhaps a reply would be more acceptable at this time of day?

  
_Dear, Mr Agreste,_

_Congratulations on your award! You must be very proud to have your hard work recognised by such an esteemed establishment. I would be more than happy to guide through the intricacies of the black-tie dress code., it’s not as intimidating as you think._

_I’m in the office from 9 am until 8 pm every day so do call and make an appointment. I also offer out-of-hours consultations on Tuesdays and Thursdays if that suits you better._

_I look forward to hearing from you._

_Marinette Dupain-Cheng._

  
After hitting send, she opened her appointments for the following day. There were two repeat customers, one personal shopping consultation and one new client. She reviewed her notes on the two previous clients to refresh herself on their tastes. A new email notification pinged and she couldn’t help herself, she clicked it.

  
_My Dear Miss Dupain-Cheng,_

_Please, call me Adrien. Mr Agreste is my father and I’m sure neither of us wants to be reminded of him. I’m forever indebted to you for your help. I should say, the Awards are next week… Is that enough time to get me kitted out?_

_I shall call you tomorrow morning to arrange._

_All my gratitude,_

_Adrien._

  
Did he know she worked for Gabriel? She supposed it wouldn’t be hard to find that information, every prospective employer knew it, after all. Shaking her head, she composed her response.

  
_Adrien,_

_I can sense your apprehension about this event and I want to put your mind at ease. I have some free time between 9 and 10.30 tomorrow morning. If you would like to come to my atelier, we can have an initial consultation and I’ll get you measured up for your dinner suit. Does that work for you?_

_Marinette_

  
She stared at the screen, willing the reply to come through.

The ladybug from her plant was climbing over the cookie crumbs on her plate.

“Do you think he’ll reply tonight?” She asked the red and black beetle.

No response. From Adrien or the bug.

“Come on, Tikki, I thought you guys were meant to be lucky?!”

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

He should have left the office hours ago, but he’d been fretting about this awards event so he started an internet search for black tie guidelines and suit hire companies. During his hunt, Lucky Charm Personal Stylists caught his eye.

The founder, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, was a designer and the name rang a bell. A quick Google confirmed that she once worked for his father.

The man ruined so many lives. He hated him.

That’s why he contacted her. Maybe in some tiny way, he could show her that not all Agrestes were as bad as Gabriel. Perhaps, he could help them both heal? When he sent his email, he thought it would sit in her inbox until morning, the reply arrived minutes later.

So, she was also a workaholic. A peril of running your own company, he supposed. Should he call her? Her mobile number was part of her email signature. No, it was too late for that, she said to call during business hours.

Her next reply was more informal. He wanted to reply in kind, but how? He was out of practice with this thing. His life had been all business since he graduated and started Black Cat Innovations. His trust fund paid for university, but he didn’t want to rely on it forever so he invested in his company.

Then, slowly, his company became his life.

It was the thing his mother and father argued most about; Gabriel prioritised his fashion house above his family. Now, Adrien was doing the same thing. At least he didn’t have a wife and son to ignore.

  
_Marinette,_

_That works wonderfully for me, thank you for fitting me in at such short notice! I can be there tomorrow at 9 am. I look forward to meeting you :)_

_A_

  
On pressing send, his stomach churned. He could be hungry, but this felt more like nervous excitement. Marinette seemed nice and she didn’t hold his name against him. He had been estranged from his father for ten years when his arrest brought his empire crashing down, but people still treated Adrien like he was complicit. To have a back and forth with someone who was caught in the middle of his father’s machinations and not have her bring it up? That was new.

It was time to go home. Adrien shut his computer down and grabbed his bag, checking that his keys and phone were inside. He had to stop by the Carrefour near his apartment to get cat food for Plagg, then he should call Nino.

His phone beeped as he was locking the office door. Reflexively, he checked it.

  
_Great :) I’ll bring the croissants._  
_M_

  
She knew the way to his heart.

He pushed his flat door open with his back and slid into the hallway, blocking the path so Plagg couldn’t escape. It was a practised move. The black cat rubbed against his ankles, mewling for his dinner.

“I know, I’m sorry I’m so late, Plagg. I was emailing a girl.”

The cat nudged him towards his bowl with his head.

“Okay, I get it, you’re hungry! Don’t you want to hear about her?”

He emptied a pouch of food into the bowl before refreshing his water. Checking the level of dry food in the other bowl, Adrien decided that Plagg was being melodramatic again, he wasn’t as hungry as he was making out.

He washed his hands and rooted through the fridge for his own dinner. He found some Camembert and half a slightly stale loaf of bread. Cheese on toast for one, again. While the grill reached temperature, he Skyped Nino.

“Hey, dude! What’s new?”

“I won the business award.”

“Woah! That’s awesome! Well done.”

Nino was in America, becoming a DJ sensation, while Adrien was in Paris, winning parochial business awards. It was hardly comparable, but he knew his friend was genuinely happy for him.

“Thanks. There’s an awards ceremony to receive it. I have to go in black tie.”

“Bro. Do you have a suit?”

“Nope. I have a t-shirt with a tie printed on it. Do you think that will pass?”

Nino laughed. He and Adrien were as bad as each other, jeans and t-shirts were their uniform and they’d never had to wear anything different. After his modelling days were over, Adrien sought comfort over fashion, then Nino showed him how he could still express himself through casual clothes. He never looked back.

“I have a friend who could help you out? She’s really talented. And single…”

“Nice try, but I actually have it all in hand. Thanks though.”

“If you’re sure? I can call her and she’d be there in a heartbeat. She’s that kind of person, always looking out for others.”

“She sounds great, Nino, but I honestly have it sorted.”

“So, you’re still married to your job, then?”

That was fair. He was married to his job and until that changed, he had no plans to drag someone else into that life. His mother hadn’t chosen it for herself and she’d paid an enormous price for it. He refused to put another person through that.

“Pretty much. For now, at least.”

“Okay, but when Al and I come back to Paris for our wedding, promise to let me introduce her?”

“Fine. I promise.”

It was an easily made promise. The pair were thriving in the States, and he doubted they’d return to Paris any time soon.

“Dude, I have to go. I’m proud of you man,” Nino held his fist out to the camera.

Adrien bumped it. “Same, bro, you’re an inspiration.”

When Adrien escaped the confines of homeschooling, he got a flat in the 7eme arrondissement and went to a lyceè near the Eiffel Tower. It was close to where his old bodyguard, Gorilla and his wife lived and it gave him peace of mind knowing they were nearby. If he’d stayed at the mansion, he and Nino would have attended the same school. Instead, they met at the music shop Adrien worked in at the weekends. Nino was a regular and the pair started talking. They had so much in common that they never stopped talking.

Nino wanted him to find someone. He was lucky enough to have fallen in love with Alya at school and Adrien knew Nino wanted him to find the same happiness. Adrien was picky, though. And busy. The two combined created an eligible-woman-repelling forcefield. The right woman would need to have superpowers to break through that wall.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t see Plagg sneak onto the countertop and steal the cheese from his slice of toast. When he took a bite he noticed.

“Plagg! You’ve got to stop it with the cheese thievery. I don’t think cats are meant to eat Camembert”

At least he had croissants to look forward to tomorrow morning.


	2. Cute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You walked into the room and now my heart has been stolen  
> You took me back in time to when I was unbroken  
> Now you're all I want  
> And I knew it from the very first moment”
> 
> Can I Be Him, James Arthur.

“Babe, I want to set Marinette up with a friend of mine.”

“In Paris?” Alya looked up from her laptop.

“That is where she lives.”

“Haha, smartass. I just want to make sure it's not one of your awful DJ friends, that's all.”

“Rude. No, he's a friend from school days, but not our school.”

“Sure. Who?”

“Adrien Agreste.”

“Are you high?! Do you remember what happened when Gabriel was arrested? The tears? The devastation? And you want to set her up with his son?!”

“You’re getting shrill, Al. Dial it back a notch.”

She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “You want to set Mari up with an Agreste. A freaking Agreste?! What. The. Hell?”

“He divorced his dad when he was sixteen, he hates him as much as Marinette, probably more.”

“He’s still an Agreste.”

“And if there’s anyone who wouldn’t hold that against him, it’s Mari. He’s kind and funny, a little dorky, driven, crazy-smart, and talented. Does that sound like any blue-eyed baker’s daughter we know?”

A long slow exhalation through her nose told Nino she was calming down. She might even be coming round to his way of thinking.

“Okay, fine. I’m reluctantly on board. But, if he hurts her, I get to say ‘I told you so’ before I kill him and frame you for his murder.”

“I love how much of a psychopath you are, babe.”

“I love you, too.”

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

Marinette didn’t know why, but she made an extra effort that morning. She picked a simple knee-length indigo blue shift dress, one of her own designs, and matched it to a pair of court shoes. Instead of her usual dusky pink lipstick, she opted for a bright red, then spent ten minutes making her messy bun look perfectly undone. Before she left the flat, she spritzed some L'Ombre dans l'Eau into the air and walked through the cloud of fragrance.

She was always nervous before meeting a new client. This particular new client, though? She was excited to meet him. Maybe it was the unexpectedness of their appointment, but she felt a thrill of anticipation about this morning, like fate was in control.

“Wish me luck, Tikki!” She called before the door swung shut.

The bakery was warm and the scent of vanilla and cocoa hung in the air. This was home to her.

“Coucou, maman!” She greeted her mother.

“Cherie! What brings you here so early?” Sabine asked.

It was true that Marinette wasn’t a morning person, and she preferred to remain under her blanket for as long as possible, but surely an early visit to her parents wasn’t completely out of the question?

“I have an impromptu breakfast meeting and I promised my client croissants.”

“Then you came to the right place,” her father boomed.

He was carrying a tray of just-baked pastries, which he placed on the counter and wiped his hands on a tea towel. He placed a kiss on top of Marinette’s head before enveloping her in a hug. Sabine assembled some cardboard boxes and started placing croissants and pain aux raisins in one.

“Who’s the client? It must be someone special to get this treatment.”

“Oh, well…” She paused.

The name ‘Agreste’ was a trigger to her parents. The aftershocks of Gabriel’s impropriety still resounded in her life today. She braced herself for an overreaction.

“It’s… Adrien Agreste.”

“How wonderful!” Sabine gushed.

“Eh?”

“Such a lovely boy, so polite,” Sabine turned to Tom. “Do we have any of those tarte au chocolat he liked so much?”

Nodding, Tom returned to the kitchen to fetch one while Marinette stared at her mother in astonishment. What was happening?

“How is he?”

“Uh, he won a business award, needs a tux.”

Sabine grinned with pride. “ I’m so pleased he’s doing well for himself.”

“Okay, that’s not the reaction I was expecting. How do you know him?” She asked.

“He used to come into the bakery, before the awfulness with his mother and his estrangement from that man.”

“I always wondered what became of him,” Tom added, slotting a tray of tarts into their place under the glass counter.

“Well, he owns Black Cat Innovations and is collecting an award for business next week,” she shrugged. “That’s all I know right now.”

“Is he single?” Sabine’s eyes glinted unnervingly.

“Maman, this is what I know: he needs a suit. His relationship status is none of my business.”

“Well, tell him we were asking for him,” her father smiled.

Sabine closed the boxes and piled them into Marinette’s arms. She kissed her cheek.

“Have a good day, dear. You best be off.”

Tom glanced at his watch. “Yes, you don’t want to be late for your young man.”

She wondered if Alya and her parents were in cahoots, they all seemed so keen for her to fall for a client. Did they not understand that it would be highly inappropriate? Besides, there was little chance of her being attracted to one, she was too focused on her job to allow personal feelings to get in the way.

She’d hoped to get to the office early to prepare for the appointment, but after calling into the bakery first, it was 9 am when she pushed through the reception doors to find Adrien Agreste waiting for her.

Images of him as a willowy teenager graced the walls of the Gabriel offices so she'd known vaguely what to expect. Or at least, she thought she did.

He was tall, even in heels she only came up to his chin. His black t-shirt skimmed a muscular torso; he wasn’t built, but he was toned enough to suggest that he regularly exercised. Collar-length blonde hair framed a perfect jawline, soft pink lips and shining green eyes. Not just eyes—emerald orbs that burned with an intensity that made her want to look away, but she found herself unable to. Adrien was good-looking, there was no getting away from it. Heart-stoppingly, stomach droppingly handsome.

He held up a cardboard tray of drinks and looked bashful.

“I didn’t know how you took your coffee, so I hedged my bets. I’ve got a cappuccino, macchiato, double espresso and a cortado. I figure I’d covered most bases, unless you prefer cold brew?!”

She giggled. He looked so lost, it was endearing.

“What do you drink?”

“Macchiato,” he admitted.

“And, I’ll have the cappuccino. I also happen to know that Henri drinks espresso and Elise likes her coffee strong and milky,” she indicated to the couple behind the reception desk. “If you don’t have plans for those drinks, would you mind if we share?”

His smile was gentle but it reached all the way to his eyes, crinkling the edges. “That’s a lovely idea.”

She placed a small bakery box on the desk and Adrien set the two smaller cardboard cups next to it.

“Maman and Papa send their love, and pain au chocolat.”

Turning back to Adrien, she beckoned him to follow. As she led him to her office, something bothered her.

“I don’t want to seem rude, but you’re Adrien Agreste. Why do you need a stylist?”

His smile was resigned, he was expecting this question.

“I haven’t thought much about fashion since I walked away from that life, ten years ago. Honestly, it was never my thing. If I had a formal event back then, an outfit would be handed to me, I didn’t notice what I was wearing,” he shrugged. “That sounds entitled, doesn’t it?”

“I think you’re too self-aware to have ever been entitled, Adrien.”

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

Marinette was pretty. No, she was beautiful. She glowed with an inner loveliness that showed in the way she naturally thought of others. It enhanced her natural good looks and made her intimidatingly bewitching. He was hooked.

She led him from the reception area, up some stone steps to a red door with a plate bearing the words ‘Lucky Charm Personal Stylists’ at eye level. The hallway was functional and a little cold, until she opened the door.

Her atelier was warm, cosy and calm. Everything she made him feel. Next to the door, an L-shaped desk took up a quarter of the room. Behind it, a drawing board bore sketches of an evening gown, or maybe a wedding dress. In the opposite corner, a pair of antique mannequins stood next to two low armchairs and a coffee table. Fashion magazines were neatly piled on the table and Adrien vainly wondered if she ever saw his modelling shots from his teens. If she had been reading them for a few years, she might have. Much of the other side of the room was hidden behind a large room divider with pink blossoms embroidered in the top corner. A rack of clothing sat next to it, he guessed it was for a later client.

The room managed to be welcoming, professional and sophisticated at once. Adrien felt at home here, more so than in his own flat.

“Have a seat,” she waved towards the armchairs.

As he did so, she put a bakery box on the table. He noticed the T&S logo and felt a lurch of nostalgia. The Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie was one of his happy places as a child. His mouth started watering in anticipation of the contents of the box.

“My parents remembered you, apparently you used to come in when you were younger?”

“Your parents? Of course, Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng… Why didn’t I figure that out?”

It warmed his soul to know that they remembered him. They were a big-hearted couple who regularly showed him more care and attention than his own father.

“My bodyguard used to take me there after fencing class. Your parents were always kind to me,”

“They gave me a box of macarons for you to take home so I think you made a good impression on them, too,” she grinned.

Marinette sat in the other chair, perpendicular to his and flipped the lid of the bakery box. She took her coffee cup, wrapping her hands around it and savouring its heat. Adrien peered into the box. Inside, croissants and pain aux raisins were neatly stacked next to one chocolate and pear tart. His favourite.

Marinette must have noticed his recognition because she smiled knowingly.

“Such a lovely boy, so polite. I’m so pleased he’s doing well for himself.” She mimicked her mother’s voice.

He picked up the tart and took a bite. It tasted as he remembered and a lump formed in his throat, threatening to prevent him from swallowing the pastry. He gulped and took a sip of coffee.

“So all those times I came into the bakery, where were you?”

“School, probably, or upstairs doing homework. More likely, not doing homework and designing or sewing a new item of clothing instead,” she chuckled at the memory.

“Okay, because I feel like I would have remembered meeting you before now,”

A dusting of pink covered her cheeks and nose and he noticed her freckles for the first time.

“Shall we get started, before I die of embarrassment?” She coughed and hid behind her tablet until her blush subsided. “The rules of black tie are simple, really. Dinner suit, dress shirt and bowtie, cumberbund optional. Your suit should be black, as should the tie, obviously.”

Adrien had to remind himself to blink. He was staring. She spoke so passionately and effortlessly about this. It was engaging.

“You need a silk-lapelled jacket, the rest should be wool barathea, There are three different types of lapels: notch, peak and shawl. Peak is the most traditional, I think shawl is the smartest, but it’s up to you.”

“I trust your judgement.”

She bobbed her head. “Trousers, fitted. Patent dress shoes, simple cufflinks.”

As she spoke, she jotted notes into her tablet. It was a habit she likely picked up from his father; he liked to be able to synch his notes and sketches with everything he stored on his main computer. His record keeping was ultimately his downfall.

“Do all your socks have Pokemon on them?” She asked.

He pulled the leg of his jean far enough to reveal the entire sock. Litten gazed out at them.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Then we’ll need to get you some dress socks, too.”

“When you said this was simple, you were humouring me, weren’t you?” He whimpered.

She placed her hand over where his was laying on the armrest. It was meant to be consoling, but the tingle that ran up his arm made his stomach flop like a grounded fish.

“That’s why I’m here, Adrien. I’ll make it simple for you.”

He looked into her eyes, two sparkling pools of blue gazed back, oblivious to the turmoil they caused in his soul.

“I trust you.”

“I’m glad, because this is a little unusual. With black tie, a fitted suit is a must. When you hire a tux, you miss out on that, no matter how great the company. The fit can be close, but it’ll never be as sharp as bespoke. However, it takes at least two weeks to have a suit made.”

“Oh.”

He felt sure she was going to say she couldn’t help him. Was ready to leave.

“If you do trust me, I suggest we go buy a suit off the rack, then I will do the alterations needed to make it yours. What do you think?”

“I love that idea. Thank you.”

“We should go shopping soon. Tonight or tomorrow, ideally.”

“I’m free tomorrow after work. At six?” He suggested.

Checking her schedule, she nodded. “It’s a date.”

Adrien had the same sensation that he had that one time he went on a roller coaster. His internal organs were still at the top of the hill while he was plummeting. He knew it wasn’t a real date, but suddenly, he wished it was.

Marinette dusted croissant crumbs off her lap and finished her coffee. She stood up and grabbed a measuring tape from her desk.

“Okay, let me take your measurements now so we know what we're looking for on our shopping trip.”

So, Adrien stood and did what he was told to allow her to take each measurement. He breathed in her intoxicating floral scent whenever she got close to him. He gulped and his Adam’s apple bobbed when her fingers brushed his neck as she took his collar size and he was sure he felt her pause. By the time she reached his inseam, he thought he might die from lack of oxygen.


	3. Suit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Can't breathe, when you touch my sleeve  
> Butterflies so crazy,  
> Whoa now? Think I'm goin' down  
> Friends don't know what's with me  
> You got me trippin', stumblin', flippin', fumblin'  
> Clumsy 'cause I'm fallin' in love”
> 
> Clumsy, Fergie

“Nino, help. I’m in love with my personal shopper.”

He could tell when Adrien was panicked because he skipped the pleasantries. Usually, he was a stickler for telephone etiquette.

“Calm down, dude. Talk me through it.”

“She’s pretty and funny, and so sweet and caring, I can’t even. And she makes my insides do this flipping thing. Should I ask her out?”

“Yes.”

“No!”

“Why even ask if you’re not going to take my advice?” Nino groaned.

“I thought you’d say it was inappropriate. I’m paying her for a service, I can’t hit on her.”

“I’ve seen you flirt, even if you weren’t paying her, I doubt you could hit on her.”

“Harsh.”

“But fair, bro.”

“Yeah.”

Adrien had been kept isolated until he was sixteen and he missed out on learning a lot of social nuances. Flirting was one example. Nino had seen it before, in texts and emails Adrien could be cheeky and confident, in person, he was all blushes and stutters. This was why Nino wanted to set him up with Marinette, he knew they’d hit it off without the need for that awkward prelude.

“Look, just say the word and I’ll set you up with my friend. You’d love her too.”

“I’m sure I would, but I don’t want to be set up right now.”

“Married to your job, right?”

“I am! I don’t have the time or energy for a relationship right now.”

“So what do you want from this girl?”

“I… I don’t know. She’s just so beautiful, I can’t stop thinking about her.”

“Okay, so go in there, be yourself, smile but not too much, and maybe this she'll ask you out.”

“Thanks, man.”

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

Marinette was there before him this time, waiting by the door. She smiled brightly and waved as he approached. Today, she was wearing a red jumpsuit with wide legs under a black belted trench coat, with black high heels. It was striking, but she carried it with elegance. She looked good in red. Actually, she’d look good in a potato sack, in red she was stunning.

She greeted him with la bise and he was slightly taken aback. As much as it was a customary greeting, the closeness threw him. A waft of her fragrance elicited an almost Pavlovian response of longing.

“Shall we?” She pushed open the door to the boutique.

The sharply-dressed man at the desk looked up from his book and waved. They were the only customers there.

“Salut, Marinette!”

“Max!” She said. “This is Adrien, we’re here for a dinner suit.

“Nice to meet you.”

Max held his hand out to Adrien and he shook it. Brown eyes appraised him from behind black-rimmed glasses.

“Likewise, Adrien. Marinette is the best in the business, you’re in good hands.”

He continued to analyse him until Marinette put her hand on his shoulder and averted his gaze.

“Could you show Adrien to the fitting room, please? I’m going to pick out a few jackets to get us started.”

Max led him to a curtained area at the back of the shop with mirrors on three sides. She flitted around the store, checking sizes and selecting items. She was like a bee, going from flower to flower. He even imagined her humming happily as she went.

“Are you going to ask her out?!” Max asked bluntly, breaking his train of thought.

“Uh… I... “ He stuttered.

“If you are, there’s a 70% chance she’ll say yes. You are her type in many ways.”

“Oh, I am?” He felt slightly disappointed in that number, it wasn’t even three quarters.

“Yes,” Max confirmed. “I don’t know enough about your character to give you higher odds, but if you are planning to ask her, you need to know something.”

“What is it?”

“She has very protective friends.”

“Like you?”

Max smiled thinly. “Marinette helped my husband and I get together, she set us up on our first date. She got me this job to help me pay for Grad School. I owe her a lot.”

“I see.”

He thought Max might be trying to warn him off, but it wasn’t working. She was a loving person, it was clear from how she treated others, but to hear how important she was to other people just made him want to know her more.

Before he could reveal any more, Marinette returned with an armful of jackets and trousers. She hung each one on the clothing rack in the fitting room and talked him through the options. Every now and again, Max would interject with his opinion.

“First of all, put these on,” she held out a pair of black trousers. “We might not go with these but I need to see how the jacket looks in an ensemble.”

She pulled the curtain over to give him some privacy and he heard her call out to Max for a dress shirt in his size.

“Ready!” He called out.

She entered the changing room and immediately started inspecting the trousers. She pinched the fabric at his waist and adjusted it.

“Are you holding your stomach in?” She asked.

“No, why?”

“I think I’d need to take these in at the waist, but I want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

Max returned with a white shirt and passed it to Marinette.

“Thanks. Now, take your top off,” she said.

He startled. He was used to getting changed in front of groups of people from his modelling days, but they were almost a decade ago. She must have seen his discomfort because she rolled her eyes and turned her back on him.

“You know, you’re my client, I’m professionally obliged to not check out your abs,” she teased. “And you’re not Max’s type.”

He blushed. “Sorry, I’m not used to dressing for an audience.”

He couldn’t admit that he was shy about her seeing him specifically. As she said, theirs was a professional relationship. After removing his t-shirt and laying on a short bench, he slid his arms into the shirt and caught sight of her profile in one of the mirrors. Her cheeks were pink, was she a little embarrassed, too?

When she turned back to him, the blush had faded. She tucked his shirt into his trousers and smoothed it over his shoulders. Every touch sent a thrill through his body.

“Relax,” she smiled. “You look tense.”

“Sorry.”

“And stop apologising. This is the fun part. It’s your 90’s movie makeover montage.”

He laughed and felt his shoulders relax. She took the first jacket off the hanger and held it out to him. He slipped his arms into it and let her pull it on. She adjusted the collar and ran her hands down the arms to check the length. She fastened the button and stood back, next to Max. They both tilted their heads and assessed him.

“Not peak,” Max stated. “It gives him the triangle look.”

“Yeah, he’s more muscular than I thought,” Marinette agreed.

Adrien silently thanked Master D'Argencourt for working him so hard at his fencing sessions.

She took the jacket off him and slid another one on. “Try this one, it’s a shawl lapel.”

They continued like this for six other jackets. Each time, Marinette would slip the jacket on him and smooth it over his chest and shoulders before fixing the collar and checking the length. Then, she and Max would scrutinise the look, occasionally throwing accidental compliments his way. As far as he could tell, every jacket looked the same as the last one, yet there was something Marinette was looking for that she hadn’t found yet.

“How much of a stickler for tradition are you?” She suddenly asked.

“Not at all,” he replied.

“Then stay right here!”

She dashed into the store, leaving him standing with Max again.

“Okay, this is very non-traditional, but I think you’ll like it.”

She held another jacket out to him. He slid it on and her wide smile told him she’d found what she was looking for. As she adjusted it and fastened his button she explained her choice.

“This is a slim fit, notch lapel jacket, which is not traditional. Neither is velvet, but we’ve kept the silk lapel and the ventless silhouette. It fits beautifully. Hugs the shoulders, the sleeves show just enough cuff; it’s almost perfect. I wouldn’t have to do much to this, maybe just nip in the sides,” she stepped back, biting her lip. “And you look… Damn.”

“Not yet,” Max held up a finger. “Wait.”

He disappeared into the boutique while Marinette continued to survey him. Adrien saw a fire in her eyes that was either passion for her job or lust. He wished he was a better judge of which. Looking in the mirror, he had to agree, he did look good. Marinette was worth every cent she charged for her expertise.

Max returned with a bow tie and tied it on him, talking through the steps as he did. Adrien was lost. He hoped tying it on the night was part of Marinette’s service.

Marinette stepped forward again, straightening his tie and smoothing his lapels.

“Now that you’re dressed, you should know, black tie is as much about the details as the suit. Cufflinks, dress watch, fragrance, hair…”

“Fragrance? Hair?!” He couldn’t stop the panic in his voice.

There was so much to consider, he was glad he hired Marinette.

“It’s all part of the package, Adrien, don’t worry.”

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

It wasn’t until she was running her fingers through his hair that she realized how much she'd been touching him.

He sounded terrified when she brought up accessories and for the first time, she properly got just how much he’d turned his back on fashion. As a model, he would be used to this, but the fear on his face confirmed that he’d given it no thought since he left that life behind.

She attempted a reassuring smile. Rising up on her tiptoes, she pushed his hair off his face.

“You should wear your hair back or to the side. You want a clean, tidy look. Not that the beachy waves aren’t gorgeous… Uh… I mean... “

_Shut up Marinette. And stop touching him._

Adrien blushed beetroot. She felt her own cheeks colour too. Behind her, Max cleared his throat.

“I’m just going to get those dress socks you wanted, give you two a minute.”

Her face burned and she felt hot, like the blush reached all the way to her toes. She put her hands behind her back to restrain herself, but that felt too formal, too much like her old boss’s stance so she crossed them in front of her chest before dropping them by her sides.

“Sorry,” she said. “If I made you uncomfortable. I get engrossed in the process and forget that some people don’t like that much… physical contact.”

“I didn’t mind,” he told his toes.

Relieved, she started rearranging the rejected jackets, desperate for something to do with her hands. She dropped an empty hanger and bent over to pick it up.

“Actually,” he sounded a little more confident now. “I… erm… It was nice.”

She stood up abruptly and banged her head on the clothes rail with a loud clatter. All hopes of pretending it didn’t happen fell away when Adrien rushed to her side.

“Are you okay?” Concern filled his face.

He put a hand gingerly to the place she hit it.

“I… uh… yeah… It’s fine. Thank you.”

She looked up at him. They were so close she was sure he could hear her heart thumping in her chest. Close enough to feel his breath on her cheek. To notice how full and soft his lips were…

Somehow, a professional part of her brain managed to work while all the rest turned to jelly.

“Um, I need to take in your trousers. Do you mind?”

He opened his mouth but didn’t speak. Instead, he nodded.

When Max returned, she had pinned the waistband to ensure it sat at the correct place and was about to move onto the hems. He was carrying a pair of dress shoes, similar to the ones she had already selected for Adrien. She got him to slip them on before turning up the bottom of his pants legs.

“Are you having a break?” Max inquired.

“No, I want a clean front so we’ll skim the top of the shoes,” she looked up and saw the confusion on Adrien’s face. “The break is the fold in your trouser leg when the hem sits on your shoe. Like this.”

She let the excess fabric fall and showed him where the fabric bunched above his ankle. Then smoothed the other, already pinned, pants leg to show him the difference. She quickly pinned the other side and stood back beside Max to survey her handiwork.

“Will I do?” Adrien asked.

“Mmmhmmm.” Marinette and Max made simultaneous approving noises then burst out laughing.

Adrien looked unsure. “Is that good or bad?”

“It’s good, I assure you. Jaws will drop,” Max said.

“You can get changed now.” Marinette pulled the curtain over. “Just be careful of the pins.”

“Should I leave them in here after?” He called from the cubicle.

“Yes, please.”

As they waited, Marinette felt Max’s eyes boring into her cheek. From the corner of her eye, she could see his smirk and she tried determinedly to ignore him. She knew he’d have something to say after Adrien had left and she would happily delay that moment for as long as possible.

Adrien emerged from behind the curtain. “I left everything on the chair.”

“Great, thaaaa-”

She tried to walk forward, but somehow, one foot caught on the other and she lurched, face first towards the floor. Adrien reacted with cat-like reflexes and caught her before she hit the ground.

“Are you okay?”

“Huh, looks you fell for him, Mari,” Max chuckled.

_Kill me now..._

Adrien helped her up and she felt dizzy. Proximity to him was overwhelming. She really _was_ falling for him.

Before he left, Max put a hand on Adrien’s forearm. “Adrien? I don’t often admit I’m wrong, but today, I was. It’s 99%.”

“What’s the 1% for?” He asked.

“Well, nothing is absolutely certain.”

Adrien smiled knowingly and left the store with a swagger in his step.

“What was that?” She demanded.

Max mimed locking his lips and shook his head. He stayed quiet while he finished packaging up Adrien’s purchases and printed an invoice for Marinette. She was starting to think that merciless teasing would be preferable to the pain of anticipating his reaction.

“Kill me now, Max. It’s the kindest way to put me out this misery,” she blurted, unable to take the silence.

Max grinned. “When I told Adrien he was in good hands, I wasn’t expecting those hands to be all over him.”

“Oh god. I’m a disaster.”

Max patted her shoulder. “You’re not a disaster, you just have it bad for the handsome blonde man.”

She did. She was falling (almost literally) head over heels for him. Of all the people in France, why did it have to be him?!

“Sure, he’s sweet,” she admitted.

“And smoking hot.”

“Yes. But I’m not looking for anything right now, I’m too busy.”

“No, you’re not. You’re too scared,” Max said. “The last man you trusted went and got himself arrested and now you don’t want to get hurt again. Adrien is not Gabriel Agreste.”

“Well… He is his son.”

Max laughed. Long and hard until tears fell down his cheeks. He was gasping for breath when he removed his glasses and cleaned them on a cloth from his pocket.

“Oh, Mari! That’s priceless. I can’t wait to tell Kim.”

She folded her arms. “If I didn’t need you to fix my laptop, I’d have left ten minutes ago, you know? I didn’t come here to be mocked.”

“It’s all part of the service,” he sniggered.

“I’m going to reassess my life choices,” Marinette sighed. “Starting with my friends.”


	4. Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I see how you look at me  
> Thinking that you're being discreet  
> I hear the way you say my name  
> And something in your voice will change  
> Then I see you get a little red  
> When I laugh at something (that) you said  
> And you don't even have a clue  
> That baby I am on to you  
> Don't be afraid, I'm gonna say yes  
> If you’re gonna ask me out, why haven't you yet?  
> All I want to do is hear it now from you”
> 
> I Know What I Want, No Secrets

“I have to go, Al, I’m dressing a client tonight.”

“Which one?”

“The cute one,” she admitted.

“Yeah, I need a name. I have to do a background search to make sure he’s not a serial killer.”

“What happened to client confidentiality? I didn’t take that awful GDPR course for no reason.”

Alya laughed. “I’m pretty sure it includes a best friend’s exemption. And a clause that allows you to discuss cute clients.”

“It does not.”

“Fine. Are you going to ask him out?”

“No. He's a client.”

“So? You're not a psychiatrist, it's hardly an ethical issue.”

“I have rules, Alya. I'm not going to break them. Besides, when would I date? I'm too busy.”

“If not him, Nino has a friend you could meet? I've seen photos, he's cute too.”

“No thanks.”

Alya huffed. “Okay, the offer stands if you strike out tonight though. Where are you going?”

“His flat, by Champ de Mars.”

“Fancy.”

“He’s one of my clients, of course he’s fancy. Normal people just hire a tux, rich people hire a person to buy one for them.”

“Eurgh, Nino has a friend like that. The guy had a bodyguard when he was a kid. Talk about privilege.”

“You say it like it makes them bad people, Al. It doesn’t.”

“Sure, and Gabriel Agreste was just misunderstood.”

Gabriel is… He was an anomaly. Most of my wealthy clients are down to earth. Just… slightly removed from reality sometimes.”

“You may never convince me, but okay. Be safe? Call me when you’re home. I need to know he didn’t harvest your organs.”

“I love you, too, Alya.”

The doorman let her in and called the lift for her. The first time she’d encountered this level of luxury, she was uncomfortable but now she was used to it. He pushed the button for the top floor and stepped out of the elevator and pulled the door closed. Adrien’s business must do well for him to have a penthouse apartment in this part of the City. He was self-made, but, she considered, with the safety net of a sizable trust fund.

From the workplace gossip she heard, Emilie Agreste set her own fund up for him with a proviso that he could only access it in her absence, after he was sixteen. It was as if she was planning to leave, or maybe she knew Gabriel was corrupt and wanted to make sure Adrien was taken care of when the man was inevitably arrested. Adrien used the trust to pay for his education, joint honours in Electronic Engineering and Business Studies. Black Cat Innovations blended his two areas of study. He funded and supported tech inventions through advice, research and development, patent applications and finding investors. As far as she could tell, it was a one-man show. Rather like Lucky Charm Personal Stylists, the name suggested scale and allowed the company to grow into the name. She was sure he planned to expand, just like she did.

The lift stopped and she pulled the doors open to find herself in a small hallway. The single door was unlocked, as Adrien said it would be. She pushed it and found herself in an airy, sparsely decorated apartment.

“Hello? It's just me, Marinette.”

Marinette didn’t like to stereotype, but this was a boy-flat. None of the functional furniture communicated Adrien’s personality, not a single soft furnishing or embellishment stood out; the apartment was a place to sleep and eat, not live. The giant TV and a game console were the focal points of the living room—even though the huge bay windows boasted a view of the Eiffel Tower. Aside from a cat striding towards her with its tail straight up in the air, there was no warmth in the room.

“Hello, kitty,” she scratched behind the black cat’s ears and it rubbed its head affectionately against her hand. “Aren’t you a gorgeous boy? Or girl? I don’t know.”

“He’s a boy,” Adrien said.

He emerged from what Marinette supposed was his bedroom. HIs black sweats were well worn and the plain white t-shirt was tighter than the others she’d seen him wear. For all the casualness of his dress, he still carried himself with poise. She couldn’t help notice the definition in his chest and stomach; he definitely did some sort of sport. Did he say he was a fencer?

She was staring. Why couldn’t she stop checking him out? She averted her eyes from him and went back to petting the cat.

“He usually hates new people. Did you bribe him with cheese?!”

“Cheese?! You know he’s not a mouse, right?”

“What can I say? He’s weird. He has impeccable taste in girls, though.”

Marinette’s cheeks burned.

“Oh, minou, you charmer,” she said to the cat.

“It’s Plagg.”

“Nice to meet you, Plagg,” she scratched under his chin.

“Miaow,” Plagg blinked slowly at her.

“Well, he’s so adorable I almost forgot why I’m here. Are you ready to get dressed?” She asked, standing up.

“Yeah,” he paused, uncomfortable. “It seems weird to invite you into my bedroom, but…”

“...Unless you want to get dressed out here, it’s not weird.”

She held out the suit carrier containing his tux and when he reached out to take it, their hands touched. He smiled at her and she smiled back at him. For just the briefest moment they held their eye contact and she was sure she heard a rumble of thunder. Marinette couldn’t help but wonder if Adrien felt about her like she did about him. If he liked her too, would he say anything?

Of course not. He hired her for a suit, not a date!

Plagg rubbed against her ankles, making her jump and breaking their gaze.

“He likes you,” Adrien laughed.

“Well, then I’m going to stay out here and give him some affection while you suit up.”

The crestfallen expression on his face was impossible to miss. Watching as the door swung closed behind him, she wondered if… No. Instead, she turned her attention back to Plagg.

“Hey, kitty,” Plagg lazed on the floor and let her rub his belly. “You’re almost as cute as your owner.”

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

The suit fit like a glove.

While he didn’t know much about fashion these days, he could recognise great craftsmanship and it was obvious how gifted Marinette was. Everything sat neatly, nothing was too loose or tight. He looked like he belonged in this tux and, surprisingly, he was comfortable in it. The tie lay on his duvet, though. He didn’t have the first clue how to put that on.

He opened the door and his heart melted at the scene. Marinette was on the floor, legs in front of her, black high heels together and knees splayed to either side as Plagg reclined between them. She scratched behind his ears while his eyes were closed, contentment all over his face. Adrien cleared his throat.

Marinette looked up and he noticed for the first time how vividly blue her eyes were.

“Sorry, but I’ve never tied a bow tie. Can you help?” He asked.

She carefully extricated herself from Plagg and stood up. She took a moment to dust her high-waisted black trousers down before striding through the door to his room.

“There’s a knack to this.” She picked up the tie. “But unless you want to call me every time you wear it, it’s worth learning.”

“I don’t plan on wearing one that often,” he admitted. “If my best friend gets his act together and books a wedding, I guess I’ll wear it then, but I don’t have many reasons to.”

She shrugged. “Fair enough. Do you mind if I kneel on your bed? It’s easiest to do this over your shoulders, but you’re so tall.”

“Uh, sure.”

She stepped out of her shoes and shrunk to shoulder height. Clambering onto his bed, she patted the space in front of her.

“You need to get closer,” she smiled.

In all the scenarios he’d imagined her being in his room, on his bed, with her arms around him, this was the only one where she was dressing him.

She slipped her arms around his neck and started to tie the bow tie. The warmth of her body radiated into his back, her cheek brushed his and her hair tickled his ear. This close, he could smell blackcurrants mingled with rose petals in her perfume, intense, yet delicate; like her. He closed his eyes and let his other senses take her in. Nino’s voice sounded in his head, _“So what do you want from this girl?”_

_Everything._

She moved away and her sudden absence left him cold. When he opened his eyes, though, her face was like sunlight. She smiled shyly, focusing on the bowtie, adjusting it. She straightened his collar, then smoothed the lapels of his jacket, sliding her hands down to fasten the button.

“Almost perfect.”

“Almost?”

She grinned and opened the small wheelie case she’d brought with her. Inside was a slew of perfectly organised boxes of varying sizes. Marinette reached for one.

“This is a white gold Patek Philippe Calatrava with an alligator strap. It’s the quintessential dress watch.”

Adrien nodded his understanding, this was one of the accessories she’d alluded to at the tailor. The metal was cold against his wrist when she pressed it to him. Marinette took his hand, turned it over and fastened the strap.

“This is a rental but if you don’t return it, I have to bill you €15,500, okay?”

He gulped. “Wow.”

“I know, right? Aren’t you glad you hired me to take care of this stuff?”

“More than you know.”

“Now, cufflinks.”

She pulled out a jewellery box and opened it. Silver discs, each embossed with a small cat’s paw glittered from the cushion. The satin inside the lid bore the name of the jewellers, Julerose.

“How did you know I liked cats?”

She winked, “trade secret.”

He let out a delighted laugh. However she figured it out, he was glad she did—the cufflinks were perfect for him. Her hand brushed his wrist when she fed the link through his shirt and the static electricity in her touch made him flinch.

With every stage, she worked quickly but unhurriedly, ensuring every detail was exactly as she wanted it. Her eyes occasionally flitted to the clock on his bedside table, always aware of the time. As she worked, she explained everything, throwing in extra information when she could. He was spellbound.

“At a black tie event, a certain amount of formal behaviour is required. I don’t have to tell you this, but it’s part of my routine; smile and be considerate. Enjoy yourself, relax and the elegance will just happen.”

He slipped his feet into patent leather brogues as she spoke and she knelt down to tie the laces.

“You don’t have to, I can tie my own shoes,” he objected.

“I’m sure you can, Adrien, but I don’t want you to wrinkle your suit.”

When she said his name, the ‘r’ was a low growl surrounded by softness. There was a caress in her voice.

“It still feels strange to have you do it.”

“Adrien,” the word sparkled on her tongue again and he longed to hear her say it over and over. “This is my job. I know you’re not used to it and I love you for that, but it’s what I’m paid to do.”

Did she say… ? Did she mean it?

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

This was where his personality was, his bedroom. A frame on one wall with childhood photographs – a little blonde boy with his mother, the same blonde woman on her own – was next to a collage of photos of school or, perhaps, university friends (including one kid that looked remarkably like a younger version of Nino). A few trinkets littered the top of a chest of drawers, including a signed Jagged Stone CD. an action figure of NAD03 from UMSIII, a snowglobe of the Colosseum and a black Venetian mask.

Cat hair over a blanket on an armchair in the corner of the room suggested she’d found Plagg’s bed. Adrien’s bed was cosier still, deep blue and yellow pillows lay tidily along the wooden bedhead and a woollen blanket was neatly folded and placed across the centre of the duvet.

He was dressed, accessorised and briefed, ready for the event. There was one thing left. She rummaged in her case for the fragrance she wanted.

“Believe it or not, there is such a thing as a black tie scent. Something bolder than your usual cologne, something elegant and masculine.”

He had that rabbit-in-headlights expression again.

“I took the liberty of selecting one for you,” she continued. “Tuscan Leather. It’s a smoky and sweet combination of leather, wood, fruit and florals. I think it’ll suit you.”

A cheeky grin spread over his face. “So, you imagined me in leather?!”

The smacked arm was a reflex action, she realised too late that it was unprofessional. Wincing at her mistake, she carried on.

“With fragrance, I subscribe to the gospel according to Jonathan Van Ness: spray, stay, sashay.”

Still rubbing his arm, Adrien shook his head. “Who?”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that and we’ll deal with it another day.”

She sprayed the cologne three times into the air, waited a few seconds for it to disperse, then told him to walk through the cloud. He did as he was told and the scent wafted towards her. It was the right choice, powerful, yet reserved, just like Adrien.

“Am I ready?” He asked.

Marinette returned everything to her case, leaving the box for the watch and cufflinks on his bedside table. She regarded him, taking in every detail.

“Now, you’re perfect.”

He strode to the full-length mirror in the corner of the room and she saw his shoulders relax, spine straighten and chin lift. He felt good. That was the sign to Marinette that she’d done her job properly.

She slipped her shoes back on and zipped up her case.

“Shall we?” He gestured to the exit.

Plagg wove between their ankles as they left, eager to make them stay.

“I'm sorry, little guy, I have to go. I'll be back soon,” Adrien told Plagg as the front door swung closed.

The plaintive mewl as the door clicked shut reminded her of one final task. She rummaged in her bag for a sticky lint roller and, as the elevator took them down to the lobby, she carefully removed the cat hairs from his trousers. Once finished, she waved the roller at him.

“This is how I knew you liked cats. Plagg hair.”

His laughter tinkled like music in the small space.

“I know this might seem a bit forward, but I like you, Marinette… I mean, you're good company… I mean, I enjoy spending time with you and I wondered if you would like to maybe get dinner with me this weekend? If you're not busy.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, you're busy?”

“Yes, I'd like to have dinner with you this weekend, Adrien,” she grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your lovely comments! This story so far has been brought to life through the endless patience of [Lady Bryght](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Bryght/pseuds/Lady_Bryght), [TOG84](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TOG84/pseuds/TOG84), [LdyFcknNoir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LdyFcknNoir), [Bluetreeleaves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluetreeleaves/pseuds/Bluetreeleaves), [Chimpukampu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chimpukampu/pseuds/Chimpukampu), [EtoilesJaunes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtoilesJaunes/pseuds/EtoilesJaunes), [whimstories](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whimstories/pseuds/whimstories) and the rest of my beautiful discord group who lend me their eyes when I have word-blindness, throw ideas and suggestions at me, comment, proof-read and squee over my chapters, and who are generally inspiring and excellent people. Go and read their fantastic stories!
> 
> If you're a writer too and want to be part of this awesome bunch of folk, [come and say hi](https://discord.gg/kHz27Nx) :)


	5. Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You won't stay with me, I know  
> But you can have your way with me ‘till you go  
> And before your kisses turn into bruises, I’m a warning  
> Let's fall in love for the night  
> And forget in the morning”
> 
> Let's Fall In Love For The Night, FINNEAS

“Wait. I thought you didn’t date clients?!” Alya demanded.

“So did I,” she shrugged. “This one’s the exception that proves the rule.”

“Cute guy exemption?”

She giggled. “Yes.”

“I haven’t heard you this excited about anything in a long time. You like him.”

Alya was right. Marinette was looking forward to this date more than she realised. Whenever she thought about it, there was a fluttering of wings in her chest and her palms felt sweaty. She had gone home last night and immediately searched for the perfect date outfit, casting aside everything that was too business-y, too casual, not flirty enough. After losing count of the clothes she’d tried on, she finally found The One.

“Will I do?” She asked, standing back from her phone to let Alya see the full effect.

“Please. You know you look sexy as hell.”

The black cashmere cable-knit sweater dress was touchably soft and the thigh-grazing hem was just long enough to be able to wear without tights. The cowl neck and three-quarter length sleeve kept it cosy, charcoal knee-high suede boots ensured she wouldn’t freeze in the cool autumn air. She wore her hair down, letting it dry naturally to allow loose waves to form. Her makeup was minimal; concealer, mascara, a touch of blush and a slick of red-tinted lip balm.

“Is it too much? Not enough?” She asked. As nerves set in, so did self-doubt.

“That depends on the lingerie,” Alya drawled.

“Does it matter? I’m not going to sleep with him on the first date.”

“It’s not about that. Excellent underwear makes you feel confident and desirable, and that projects outwardly. I’ve told you this before, girl.”

“Yes, I attended an earlier TED Talk.”

Alya chuckled. “Did you take my advice?”

“I always do, Al.”

“Let’s see.”

“No, I’m not flashing my knickers at you!”

“Go on… Nino’s in the other room, talking to his friend. Just a peek?”

Marinette sighed and turned her back to her phone, flipping up her skirt to reveal black lace knickers. “The bra matches.”

“Very nice,” Alya whistled. “What do you think, Nino?”

“What?!” She spun around, remembering to release her dress. Alya let out a hearty laugh.

“I’m kidding, Mari! He’s not here. Nice reflexes though.”

“I think we should see other people,” Marinette deadpanned.

“I love you, too,” Alya said. “Have a good night, I won’t wait up.”

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

Alya was screaming with laughter in the background so Adrien missed what Nino said.

“Sorry, dude. Alya’s best friend is going on a date tonight so she’s calming her nerves by giving her a heart attack by the sounds of it,” Nino sighed and he heard a door closing, muffling the laughter. “I said, where are you taking her?”

“Oh, Restaurant Cléo, by Invalides.”

“Nice. Not far from your place, either. Maybe you could take a stroll by the river after dinner?”

“Invite her back to mine? Isn’t that a bit presumptuous?”

“No,” Nino insisted. “You have a kick-ass apartment with a view of the Eiffel Tower. Use it, man.”

It wasn’t like she hadn’t already been to his flat. Perhaps it would be appropriate to ask? Maybe the date would be so awkward that it wouldn’t be an issue. That was a possibility, Adrien wasn’t practised in this.

“But, so you know,” Nino added. “When you finally take my friend out, I’ll kick your ass if you take her home on the first date. She’s like a sister to me.”

“Noted.”

Silence fell between them. Adrien wondered why Nino kept insisting that he meet his friend. Was she that desperate for a date, or did Nino think Adrien was? Was he hopeless and destined to fail?

Sensing his uncertainty, Nino broke the lull. “Dude, you did the hardest part and asked her out. Tonight’s going to be great.”

“Thanks, man.”

“Any time.”

“I’ve got to go, Nino. I’m meeting her on Pont des Invalides in half an hour.”

“Sure thing. Call me tomorrow and let me know how it went?”

He hung up and stood in front of the mirror, scrutinising himself. How do you dress for a date with a stylist? Especially one that knows how sartorially hopeless you usually are.

He’d opted for dark wash jeans and a smart white button-up shirt. The dressiest sneakers he owned were his Old Skool leather Vans in black leather so he slipped them on and found his leather jacket.

“Wish me luck, Plagg,” he called out before pulling the door shut.

At the bridge, he spotted her before she saw him and felt his lungs empty. She was waiting for him on the corner they’d arranged, wearing a pink pea coat over a black minidress and long boots. Her hair was blowing behind her on the breeze. She looked like she’d stepped out of his wildest dreams and onto the streets of Paris.

_I’m the luckiest man in France tonight._

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

“So, do you date much?”

The question fell out her mouth before she considered it. Small talk flowed from the moment they met on the bridge to when the waiter removed their entrée plates. With the pleasantries out the way, Marinette knew they were going to start asking deeper questions and she panicked. She could hardly ask about his childhood, could she?

If he was fazed, he didn’t show it.

“Not really. I was homeschooled until I was sixteen so I was awkward and scared of most of the girls at lycée. I dated a little at university, but nothing serious. I don’t have time, really, my company is my life right now. My best friend says that’s just an excuse, though.”

He shrugged and picked up his water glass. “You?”

“Uh, much the same as you—I’m too busy with Lucky Charm to have much of a life outside of it. Anyway, my dating history is tragic. In collège, I dated a guy for a few months, until we realised that he was much better suited to my best friend. They’re getting married next year. In lycée, I briefly went out with my friend, Kim. He came out to me and admitted he was in love with Max. I helped them get together…”

Adrien’s eyes were wide. Marinette took a sip of wine. The story got worse.

“In art school, I had a crush on a guy called Nathaniel. The day after our first date, I met someone called Marc, thought they’d be ideal to collaborate on a project Nate was doing, and they’ve been an item ever since,” she winced at the memory. “So, I have good news. After me, you’re going to meet your soulmate.”

She tried to laugh, but the joke wasn’t funny to her. He smiled kindly and put his hand on hers. A tingle shot up her arm.

“Mari, are you trying to tell me you’re cursed? Because, I don’t believe in that stuff.”

This time her laugh was genuine. She slid her hand from under his and linked their fingers.

“Just don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she joked, her heart lighter.

The waiter set their main courses in front of them, but their hands lingered. Neither one wanted to be the first to break the spell. Eventually, the tempting aroma of salmon fillet and celeriac proved too much. She squeezed his fingers before taking her hand from his and reaching for her fork. The thrill of his touch remained and she longed for more.

“Tell me about you,” Adrien said, his bright eyes glittering when he looked at her. “What led you into fashion?”

“Really?!”

“Yes. I want to know more about you.”

She chewed her salmon slowly as she considered the best way to answer. Adrien and his father were estranged, he wouldn’t want to hear about her close working relationship with Gabriel, or that he was her mentor. There was still plenty to tell, however.

“I’ve made my own accessories for as long as I can remember. Every friend from school owns a bag, necklace or scarf that I made them. I guess designing was a progression of that. I started studying different designers and fell in love with certain styles. Coco Chanel, Mary Quant, Tom Ford, Gino Valletta, Gabriel…”

Adrien nodded, encouraging her to go on.

“After lycée, I went to art school and worked for fashion houses in the holidays. Then, I did a Masters in Fashion Design. I got a job at Gabriel immediately after that. He, uh… I was a seamstress and I was sewing a button on for a shoot and the designer had this hat. It didn’t work with the outfit and I said so.”

She took a sip of wine, steeling herself.

“The hat was Gabriel’s design. He overheard me; I was sure I was going to be fired. Instead, he told me to come up with a better one overnight. I did, and he used it in the photoshoot. I was promoted to Designer the day after that.”

“Wow. That’s impressive,” Adrien acknowledged. “He’s a hard man to please.”

Pride, guilt and regret formed a lump in her throat and she swallowed thickly.

“Afterwards… I went from being the next big thing to completely unhireable.”

“That’s why you started Lucky Charm?” He surmised.

She sighed. “I love my business, I’ve given it everything, but… I miss that life, sometimes.”

“You miss designing.”

“I do,” she shook her head. “Anyway, sorry to bring the mood down.”

“Don’t be. Thank you for sharing.”

Without realising, she’d finished her main course and the waiter materialised at the table to remove the plates. A dessert menu appeared in her hand.

She felt self-conscious. Had she shared too much? Was it all too self-pitying? Before she had time to dwell on it, a warm hand took hers. He ran his thumb across her knuckles and squeezed her fingers reassuringly. His eyes remained on his menu, but the corners of his mouth twitched. He knew he was calming her.

She returned to studying the desserts list, trying to ignore the vertiginous effect his touch had on her.

“Do you want to share something?” Adrien asked suddenly.

She grinned. “Only if you’re planning to order the chocolate ganache cake with salted caramel sauce.”

“Of course. Is there any other option?”

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

The tears in her eyes only made them more dazzling, though his heart broke for her as she recounted the story of her shattered career. He was delighted by the giggle she let out when he suggested they share a dessert, proud that he could evoke such a beautiful sound from her.

The waiter placed the chocolate cake in front of Marinette so she pushed it to the middle of the table. He handed her a spoon.

“Ladies first.”

“I’m not much of a lady, but thanks,” she winked.

He was still reeling from the wink when she tasted the cake. Her eyes fell shut and she pressed her lips together, savouring the flavour before letting out a pleasured hum of approval. Fixated on her mouth as she licked her lips and smiled, he didn’t notice her watching him.

“You have to try this, Adrien.”

She held her spoon out to him, already loaded with a bite-sized piece of dessert. He had a choice, let her feed him or take the spoon from her. Unable to decide, he put his hand over hers and guided the spoon towards his mouth.

His own moan was involuntary. “Oh my god, that’s amazing.”

“Right?!” Her eyes twinkled. “It’s the greatest thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

He caught the moment her cheeks flushed and her eyes momentarily widened as she realised the double meaning in what she said. Adrien chuckled and put a hand on her arm.

“Don’t worry, I know what you meant.”

“This is why I don’t date. I end up getting morose or accidentally lewd.”

_So let’s skip dating and move to the next stage._

“At the risk of also saying something that could be easily misconstrued… After dinner, do you want to take a walk along the Seine? I can call you a taxi from my place.”

_Or, not call a taxi…_

Her gaze flitted to where his hand was still resting on her arm, stroking the soft fabric, and she bit her lip. When she looked up, her eyes blazed with almost searing heat.

“Are you ready to go?”

Adrien paid the bill, in spite of her protestations that they should split it. They slipped their jackets on at the door of the restaurant and stepped out into the crisp autumn air. Adrien wasn’t sure if he should try to take her hand, perhaps out his arm around her. Before he could come to a conclusion, Marinette slid her hand into the crook of his elbow and nestled into his side.

They took their time, sauntering along the banks of the Seine until they reach Pont d’Alma. From there, Marinette suggested they walk down Rue de l’Université for “the best view of the Eiffel Tower”. At Avenue de la Bourdonnais, she stopped, awe written on her face.

“The point where she just appears between the buildings still takes my breath away. I’ll never get tired of it.”

He wasn’t looking at La Dame de Fer. He only had eyes for one lady—one more beautiful than any of Paris’s landmarks. She rested her head on his shoulder and took in the view. He leaned into her and felt her shiver.

“Are you cold?”

“A little. I’d freeze to death for this view, though.”

He wrapped his arms around her, sharing his warmth. “You know I have a view of the Tower, and central heating… Come on, we can cut through the park.”

  
“It is a beautiful view,” she admitted, accepting the glass of wine he proffered.

“It is,” he agreed, eyes fixed on her.

She turned to him. “You’re not looking out the window!”

“No, I’m looking at the beautiful view.”

She stared at her wine glass as a blush bloomed across her cheeks. He saw her bite her bottom lip, but it didn’t stop a smile forming at the edges of her mouth. Suddenly, the only thing he wanted were those lips. He finished his wine and put his glass on top of the bookshelf next to the window seat. Then, he took her glass and placed it next to his.

“What..? Oh,” Marinette’s jaw fell open in surprise as Adrien slid his hands around her waist.

She ran her hands up his arms until they were at the back of his neck, wrapping strands of his hair around her fingers. She tilted her head towards his, almost closing the gap between them but stopping short. His heartbeat thundered in his ears and his breath hitched as he pressed his lips to hers, finally feeling their softness, tasting their sweetness.

A gasp escaped her when he ran the tip of his tongue along the seam of her bottom lip. He pushed his tongue into her mouth and she met it with her own. He pulled her closer until there was barely a sliver of air between them and she rolled her hips into him. One hand cupped his cheek, the other raked through his hair, drawing him closer, deepening their kiss further. Adrien’s head swam, her fragrance, the scent of her hair and the chocolate on her breath mingled and overwhelmed his senses. He needed more of her. He wanted all of her.

Adrien hungrily kissed a trail along her jaw until he reached her earlobe. He tugged it gently with his teeth, eliciting a soft moan. That was the final straw, he had to have her.

“I never do this, but do you want to stay the night?” He whispered.

When she pulled away from him, her pupils were blown and her face flushed.

She licked her lips. “Yes, I do.”


	6. More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “A drop in the ocean  
> A change in the weather  
> I was praying that you and me might end up together  
> It's like wishing for rain as I stand in the desert  
> But I'm holding you closer than most 'cause you are my heaven  
> I don't wanna waste the weekend  
> If you don't love me pretend  
> A few more hours then it's time to go.”
> 
> A Drop In The Ocean, Ron Pope

She was nestled into his side when he woke. He turned to look at her, torn between the desire to wake her versus watching her sleep. Last night, Adrien would have said she couldn’t get more beautiful, now he was reassessing that. Dark hair spilled over her face, her cheeks were pink, skin soft. The peaceful expression on her face occasionally broke as her brow furrowed; what was she dreaming about?

Warmth radiated from her as she slept and he was loathe to leave her, but he could hear his phone buzzing against the counter next door. It was Nino, calling to hear how his date went and he’d keep calling until he answered. Grabbing a pair of sweatpants from the back of a chair, he hurried to pull them on while he reached for the door handle. Plagg mewled huffily and shoved past him to claim his favourite chair.

“Don’t wake her up!” He warned the grumpy cat.

He pulled the door to and reached his phone just in time for the ringing to stop. Groaning, he took his time to connect his Bluetooth headset before calling Nino back.

“Hey man, what’s new?” Nino answered within the first ring.

“Not much, you?”

“Not much?! Dude! How did your date go?”

“Oh,” Adrien felt his cheeks heat as he spotted Marinette’s dress strewn by the window seat. “It… It was good.”

“Did you have things in common? Did you go for that riverside walk? Did you show her the view? Talk to me, man!”

He laughed, it was fun to torture his friend, especially when he was this keen for the details. Taking his time to answer, he opened the cupboard and found a loaf of bread and some butter, there should be jam in the fridge.

“The conversation flowed, we had plenty to talk about. She’s sweet and honest, there’s no hidden agenda with her. I like that.”

He carved four slices off the loaf and dumped them into the toaster as he spoke.

“And..?”

“Yeah, we took a walk…”

“And..?”

“... and we walked up Rue de l’Université for the view.”

“Adrien Agreste, don’t make me set Alya on you! Did you bring her back to yours?!” Nino’s voice was shrill.

“Shhh… she’ll hear you from the next room.” He allowed himself a smirk.

“Yeah, you did!” Nino cheered. “Tell me about it.”

“Nope.”

The toast popped up so he piled the slices on a plate and started buttering.

“Go on, bro. I’m your best friend, you tell me _everything_.”

A creaking floorboard alerted him to movement at the bedroom door. Marinette stood in the doorway, hair messy and eyes sleepy.

“Good morning, princess,” he grinned.

“Hi.”

“What did you call me?”

“No, not you bro,” Adrien sighed. “When have I ever called you that?”

“Oh! She’s there now? Sorry, dude. Shall we finish this another time?” Nino got the message.

“Yes, please.”

“I’m so excited for you, Adrien, you know that? Can we meet her? Do you want to bring her to my wedding?” Nino’s support often morphed into overreaction.

“I'm gonna go,” he said, reminding Nino that be was meant to hang up.

“Yeah, sure. Love you, dude. I’ll call you later.”

“Okay, love you man.”

Now that she had his full attention, he was able to take in the sight of her. She was wearing his shirt, bare legs extending from the hem. He vaguely recalled removing her lingerie before they reached the bedroom so was she..?

_Was she trying to kill him?!_

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

Marinette woke to the sound of Adrien talking to someone in the other room. It took a moment for sleep to wear off enough to decide that it was probably Plagg. She looked around for her clothes before remembering that her dress had been abandoned next door, somewhere in the vicinity of the bay window. Her underwear would be somewhere nearby. Adrien’s shirt was on the floor near the bedroom door so she grabbed it and threw in on, pleased to find it covered her enough to salvage her dignity. It smelled like him and she breathed in his scent from the collar.

She almost tripped over her boots on the way to the mirror. They’d stayed on longer than anything else. Blushing at the memory, she wiped mascara smudges from under her eyes and smoothed her hair to make it slightly less wild.

Plagg alerted her to his presence by snoring in his chair. Who was Adrien talking to? She could only hear one voice. He must be on the phone. If it was a business call, would he mind her going out there? She pushed the door tentatively until she could see him. He was in the kitchen, buttering toast and chatting to someone on a headset. His phone lay on the counter. When he saw her he grinned, his face full of sunshine.

“Good morning, princess.”

“Hi,” she croaked back.

“No, not you bro,” he rolled his eyes. “When have I ever called you that?... Yes, please… I'm gonna go… Okay, love you man.”

He took the headset out his ear and dumped it on his phone.

“Sorry about that. My best friend lives overseas and keeps funny hours.”

“That's okay. I have one of them too. Actually, do you have a charger I can use? I know she'll have texted me and if I don't reply, she'll think you've got me in a pit in your basement.”

He chuckled and nodded to a plug, already in the socket. “You can tell her I don't have a basement, if that helps ease her mind.”

_Still alive, still on my date… Will call you later xx_

She left her phone on the counter and turned around, just as Adrien approached.

“Hi,” she smiled shyly.

“Are you hungry? I made my speciality; toast.”

Marinette laughed. “You’re so fancy, you’re spoiling me.”

He moved closer and she put her hand on his chest, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the definition of his pecs. Adrien gripped her (his) shirt and drew her in for a kiss. She was suddenly conscious of morning breath and pulled away before the kiss could deepen.

“You know, I have other shirts you can wear?” Adrien said. “Even though you wear this one better than I do.”

He ran his hands under the shirt to her waist, arching an eyebrow when he discovered that the shirt was the only garment she was wearing.

“Oh, yeah. You _definitely_  wear this better,” he purred, kissing her neck.

She tilted her head back, giving him access to more skin. Her eyes fell closed as she focused on the sensations. In the background, she felt a reverberation in her stomach and heard a gurgling rumble—she was hungry.

“Easy, chaton. I operate better after breakfast.”

He smirked, his eyes moving demonstrably to where her fingers were walking down his abs towards the waistband of his sweats. She pulled her hands away, pressed her lips together and looked back at him, wearing her best innocent face. He shoved the plate along the counter towards her and she accepted it gratefully.

“Coffee?” He offered.

Mouth full of toast, she nodded. Adrien turned his attention to an expensive looking coffee maker and Marinette checked her phone. Alya’s reply was excited screaming and mashing of keys so she knew she was safe to leave it unanswered. A giggle escaped her as she considered how adamant she’d been with Alya last night about not sleeping with Adrien on the first date.

She was breaking all the rules for him.

Adrien returned with two mugs of coffee, placing one next to her.

“So, what are your plans today?” He asked.

 _You have designs to work on, skills to finesse, and no need for distractions…_ The voice in her head reminded her. She chose to ignore it.

“I have nothing on. You?”

“I’m leaving for Dublin tomorrow, for a conference so I should really pack, but that’s it. Unless…”

“What?”

“How would you feel about staying here? We can chill all day and call out for dinner later? I can pack tomorrow.”

It sounded like the perfect day. As much as she knew she should focus on other things, she wasn’t ready to leave him yet.

“Well, I need a shower…”

He nodded towards the bathroom door. “I have one of those.”

“...And some less revealing clothes.”

His eyes travelled the length of her body. “I disagree, but I have other shirts, shorts, sweats… I’ve got you covered.”

“Was that a pun?” She quirked an eyebrow.

He winked. The most loaded, wicked wink she’d ever witnessed. Suddenly, toast wasn’t enough to satiate her hunger. She took his hand and led him to the bathroom, feeling bold.

“Whe-” she cut him off with a kiss.

“I think I’d like company for that shower. Care to join me?”

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

His hoodie swamped her and she had to turn over the waistband of his boxer shorts several times to prevent them slipping down, but she looked adorable. He threw a t-shirt on over his sweatpants after Marinette claimed his bare chest was “distracting”. Snuggled on the sofa together, Plagg spread across Marinette’s lap, he passed her the remote.

She smirked. “You might regret giving me this.”

“Why?”

“Because I happen to know you’ve missed out on a significant part of popular culture and I think it’s time to rectify that.”

Which was how they ended up bingeing the first season of Queer Eye. He tried to pay attention, but his gaze kept falling on her. Every now and again, she’d look around and add her own commentary.

“Do you see what Karamo is wearing there? I'd like to get you in something like that, you’d look really suave.” ...or… “Tan's jacket here would suit you. It’s casual, but with a businesslike edge.”

She thought about him so differently to the way he considered himself. She saw a poise and elegance in him that he didn’t. In her eyes, he was the bright young entrepreneur he aspired to be. From his own point of view, he was still the wide-eyed graduate with a dream to help inventors. Seeing himself through her eyes gave him confidence.

When the final show ended, it was almost six o’clock so Adrien fetched his collection of takeaway menus and they selected pizza for dinner. While they were waiting for the food to be delivered, Marinette looked concerned.

“Did I talk too much about fashion today? Sorry, I know you left that behind.”

“Not at all. I don’t hate fashion, Marinette,” Adrien smiled, cupping her cheek in his palm. “My father was… He was manipulative and liked having people under his control. I was expected to be the model son, literally and figuratively. When I decided I didn’t want to be that, he got angry. It wasn’t the world of fashion that I turned my back on, it was Gabriel and his mind games.”

“Oh,” she looked like she wanted to say more, but was interrupted by her phone ringing. She winced when she saw the screen, “it’s my friend. Sorry, do you mind if I answer this?”

“Do you want to take it in the bedroom? I’ll wait here for the pizza.”

She smiled in gratitude and put the phone to her ear. “Hi, Al… Double-breasted jackets are making a comeback…”

He watched the door swing closed behind her, Plagg squeezing through the gap to follow her. The cat was as enamoured by Marinette as he was.

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

“Hey girl, what’s new?”

“Double-breasted jackets are making a comeback.” She sat on the edge of the bed.

Alya groaned. “You went on a date LAST NIGHT, you’re still not home and you really think I want to know about jackets?!”

Marinette laughed. “We’re just about to have dinner, can I call you tomorrow?”

“Girl. My work here is done. There’s nothing more I can teach you.”

Her eyes scanned the top of Adrien’s desk. Postcards from Florence, Barcelona and Washington DC rested against the wall, a photograph of a couple sat behind one. Before she could look closer, Plagg jumped into her lap and nuzzled his face against hers.

“Hey, kitty. Are you allowed on the bed?”

“Are you talking to him?! Should I go?”

Marinette heard the disgust in her friend’s voice and chuckled. “No! I’m talking to his cat.”

“Oh, that’s less gross. Still, though, I’ll leave you to it.”

“Thanks, Alya. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Love you, Maribug.”

“Love you, too.”

She stroked Plagg as she snickered at Alya. Sure, Marinette didn’t date often, and seldom successfully, but Alya and Nino liked to treat her like a desperate case. Yet, here she was on a long and arguably successful first date with a guy she met all by herself. Perhaps Alya’s work really was done?

“Pizza’s here!” Adrien called.

“Come on, Plagg,” Marinette stood up, letting Plagg hop to the floor. “I’ll sneak you some cheese.”

After dinner, Plagg finally left Marinette’s lap for long enough for her to climb into Adrien’s. She ran her fingers through his hair and gazed into his face. His emerald eyes glittered back at him and she giggled.

“This weekend hasn’t felt real.”

“I know what you mean,” he agreed. “I don’t want it to end.”

She kissed him. He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her, enveloping her. His warmth surrounded her and her head swam with the now familiar desire to give herself over to him. Her hands trailed down until she was gripping the hem of his t-shirt. She broke the kiss just long enough to pull it over his head in one swift movement.

“It doesn’t have to end yet,” she whispered.

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

 _Somehow,_ Marinette ended up spending the night again.

The sun wasn’t up when he woke to her kissing his temple.

“I have to get myself sorted before I go into the office,” she whispered.

He forced his eye to open and sat up in bed. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her in to kiss her lips.

“Stay forever,” he countered.

She laughed. “Nice try, but I have a business to run and you have a business trip to pack for. Thank you for a magical weekend.”

“I’m back on Sunday, are you free?”

“Uh, I have… a thing… on Sunday. Call me Monday? We can plan something then?”

“Sounds good.”

The front door clicked closed and Plagg jumped up on the bed, mewling plaintively. Adrien scratched behind his ears.

“I know. It’s going to be a long week, buddy.”


	7. Miss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It's like thunder and lightning  
> You hurt me without trying  
> A tempest, you was rising  
> And no I don't like to be this way  
> And you're Jekyll and Hyde-ing  
> Are you real or are you lying?  
> So stop with your crying  
> I can't handle it now.”
> 
> If You’re Over Me, Years and Years

Marinette spent most of the week in the office. The closer to Christmas it got, the busier she became. In addition to cleaning up her laptop so it ran smoothly, Max had updated her website so it now included a tool to book appointments online, and he added the option to schedule video consultations for busy or out-of-town clients. Business was booming.

Daytimes were filled with consultations and evenings were spent dressing clients for events. Nights were for her and her drawing board, working on designs.

Without realising it, she had made Adrien a part of her routine. She checked her phone when she woke to swoon over his good morning photo, sent him a midday napkin doodle and made sure her phone was charged in time for him to call at night.

Adrien called every day, usually as she was sitting down to work on Alya’s wedding dress. The sound of his voice soothed her after hectic appointments with demanding clients. They chatted about their days, or sat in comfortable silence while Marinette sketched and Adrien prepared his notes for the following day. He had been asked to discuss his business model at forums during the conference, then afterwards for a local Think Tank, and was fretting about the quality of his English. From what Marinette could tell, English was just one of the many languages Adrien spoke flawlessly.

_“You have a silver tongue, Adrien. You’ll charm them all.”_

_“Oh, princess, you flatter me.”_

_“Yeah, like that.”_

_His laugh lightened her heart. Everything about his demeanour was easy and charismatic and she craved him, needing to be in his orbit._

_“Tell me about your friend’s wedding dress. How is the design going?” He asked._

_She sighed. “Agonisingly. She’s not a romantic person so I’m trying to keep the style simple, but also special. It’s not easy.”_

_“I can imagine.”_

_“I threw out the first draft after the weekend and started again. I was, uh… inspired.”_

_“Oh, yeah?”_

_The Eiffel Tower had been on her mind since then and the shape of it had morphed into a dress in her mind. A dress she had to put on paper. Within minutes of her initial sketch, she knew it had to become Alya’s wedding gown._

_“Much of the weekend was inspiring,_ minou _.”_

_“I miss you.”_

_She smiled. She’d been doing that a lot recently. “I miss you, too.”_

_“Monday can’t come soon enough,” he said._

She agreed.

  
☆.｡.:* Saturday *:.｡.☆

She slept in the office on Friday night. After working late, she was too tired to make the journey home. On Saturday morning, she decided to make the most of her extra time at work to get organised for the following week. By early afternoon, she was tired and stiff from sleeping in an armchair. She needed coffee and fresh air.

She pushed open the door to La Sarcelle, her favourite coffee shop and saw the teal hair of her favourite barista over the top of the coffee machine. He looked up as she approached.

“Ma-ma-Marinette! The usual?”

When Juleka first introduced Marinette to her brother, she was a shy teenager with a tendency to stumble over her words. He found it endearing and the nickname stuck. The joke wore thin for her years ago, but it amused Luka so she let it slide.

“Actually, I think I’m going to have a cappuccino today.”

Luka did a double take as he reached for the wrong cup. “Are you sure? I thought you said foam was just expensive air?!”

“I did. But, I keep breaking my rules and, it turns out, I like foam,” Marinette said.

She was usually a latte drinker, with a double shot and almond syrup, but Adrien had given her a taste for cappuccinos. Drinking one now, at the end of a week without him, might fool her senses into believing he was there. It was worth a try.

While Luka frothed the milk, his aqua eyes scrutinised her. He could make you feel like he was looking through you and into your soul. It was disconcerting. Before she could ask what he was seeing, he spoke.

“I’m going to miss this song. “

This was odder than usual.

“What?”

“It’s just… I’ve noticed that sometimes, your heart plays in a minor key. Which is a shame, especially since I like its current melody. It’s easy and peaceful. You seem happy, I hope you keep playing it for a while longer before the key changes.”

As a teenager, she fell for his innate ability to set her emotions to music. He was brooding and mysterious and he made her love him through his guitar strumming. These days, it was less appealing, particularly when she was tired.

“I didn’t realise I was so transparent,” she harrumphed.  
  
He chuckled to himself. “It's your telltale heart.”

He placed her coffee cup on the counter and she passed him the cash—La Sarcelle was one of a few places in Paris that didn’t take card payments. It was part of its charm. As he handed her change over, he held her hand a little longer than usual.

“If you want company… Afterwards… I'll be here, for as long as you need.”

“Thank you, Luka,” she managed to squeak.

  
☆.｡.:* Sunday *:.｡.☆  
  
“This is Alya Césaire, reporting from Washington DC for TV-5.”

At 2pm, she was done for the day. After the live broadcast for the six o’clock news in Paris, she had nothing more to do.

Alya checked her phone; no messages. Nino was in LA, where it was still morning and after the party he played last night, she didn’t expect him to surface until well into the afternoon. Marinette had been AWOL all day. She had been in the office every night they spoke last week and Alya wouldn’t be surprised if that where she was today.

She typed a message.

_Hey girl, if you’re around tonight, let me know. I’m at a loose end - Nino is partying in LA. Miss your face xx_

Her brow furrowed as she pressed send.

Designing came as naturally to Marinette as breathing and, without regular opportunities to do it, she started to wither. Every so often, Alya noticed her friend become distant and reclusive; like someone going through withdrawal. She would shut herself away and stop taking phone calls. A week later, she’d return and act like nothing had happened, but she’d be different. Shaken. It looked like it was happening again this weekend.

From what she understood, Marinette would go into some kind of fashion design meltdown and emerge from the other side with something breathtaking. A ballgown for a client, a jumpsuit for herself, a dress for Manon—consequently, the best-dressed teenager in Paris.

She was sure it was a reaction to losing her career and her mentor when Gabriel was arrested, and she worried that Marinette wasn’t coping as well as she claimed. If Alya and Nino were in Paris, they’d turn up at her door and refuse to leave until she dealt with her loss properly. From 6161 kilometres away, there was little she could do.

The distance was particularly hard when she went through all she had done. When Marinette lost her job at Gabriel, it seemed like her life was ending. Watching from afar made it harder to feel useful. She wanted to step in and push her into the job interviews, encourage her that there were designers out there that wouldn’t hold her association with Gabriel against her, persuade her to keep trying. When she announced her new business venture, Alya hoped it would give her closure, and it almost did.

Not quite, though.

It was why Nino had been so keen to set her up with Adrien. He was dependable, kind and someone who understood loss more than most. In spite of his horrible childhood, he’d ended up one of the Good Guys and he’d be ideal for Marinette.

This new guy, The Cute Client, seemed like he could be a positive influence on her, but he'd gone on a business trip this week so it was too early to tell. Perhaps, his absence was what precipitated the most recent design-hole that Mari had fallen into? Alya would withhold judgment.

When she returned to Paris for her wedding, she vowed to spend as much time as she could with Marinette. She missed her.

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

“Dude, you are not in your office right now.”

“I’m just stopping in to drop off all the contact info and marketing materials I got this week. I don’t want to have to carry it all home, then back to the office tomorrow. I promise I’m not staying long!”

“Unconvinced, but okay. When are you seeing the girl again?”

“I’m not sure. We’ve spoken almost every day, but we haven’t made any plans yet. I’ll call her tomorrow, see what she wants to do.”

“Nice.”

Adrien sat at his desk and surveyed the office. He’s missed this place while he’d been away, but not as much as he missed Marinette. Their daily conversations and the cute drawings she sent him during her lunch break were the only things that sustained him, making the distance feel less brutal. He couldn’t wait to see her.

He didn’t mean to, but he switched on his computer and opened his email server.

“Bro, I heard the startup jingle, I know you’re working.”

“I’m not, I’m just checking my emails, it’s not really work.”

Nino chuckled. “Still married to the job.”

One email stood out, largely due to the number of emojis in the subject line. It was from Chloé. He clicked through.

  
Adrikins _!_

_My sweet friend! Did you see the write up of the Paris Business Assoc bash in the society pages? Of course not, you don’t read that kind of thing. Well, here’s one of the photographs, don’t we look adorable? Simply adorable._

_We must meet for lunch soon. I insist._

_Chlo <3_

  
The photo was of Adrien in his dinner suit with Chloé draped over him, as she tended to do. He looked incredibly smart and he considered his luck in finding Marinette to help him. His luck in finding Marinette, full stop. He wondered if she’d seen any pictures from the night. She’d probably enjoy seeing how elegantly put together the outfit looked. It would be good publicity for her business.

He would show her the photo when he saw her next.

“Hey, you want to see a pic from the awards night?” He asked Nino.

“Yeah, man. I’ve never seen you dressed up.”

He forwarded the email from Chloé to Nino’s address. A muted notification tone on the other end of the line told him he received it. He waited while Nino opened the email and viewed the image.

“Dude.” Nino’s tone was flat.

“Is that good or bad?”

“You look amazing. I must remember to keep you out my wedding photos for fear you’ll upstage us all. But, man, has your girlfriend seen this?”

“Why?”

“It kinda looks like you and Chloé are an item. If she doesn’t know about your friendship, she might jump to conclusions.”

“Oh. Crap.”

  
☆.｡.:* Monday *:.｡.☆

He didn’t need coffee, he should go home and sleep.

The detour to the office yesterday, plus a day full of catching up on missed meetings last week had made this feel like a long day. It wasn’t helped by the fact that Plagg hadn’t been impressed with him being away for so long, or with him leaving Chloé in charge of feeding him and had chewed the corner of the sofa and pooped on the kitchen floor, so Adrien had to clean the apartment before going to bed last night.

He needed to shut down his computer and go home, but he hadn’t heard from Marinette yet and to call it a day would mean admitting that Monday was over and they hadn’t arranged another date. He had messaged her that morning, and again at lunchtime, but there was no response.

He needed coffee.

The light was still on inside La Sarcelle when he passed so he pushed the door. It was open.

Luka, the barista was on the sofa in the far corner, with his back to the door. A dark-haired girl lay on the seat next to him, her head on his shoulder as he played the guitar. Adrien thought the guy was a pretentious douche, but ultimately harmless. Apparently, the lost-in-the-music act was for the benefit of the ladies.

He jumped up when Adrien walked in and went behind the counter.

“Hey man, your usual?”

“Yes, please. I didn’t think you’d be open.”

“Yeah, my friend needed a shoulder,” Luka shrugged. “One macchiato coming up.”

“Thanks.”

He waited in silence for his coffee, it felt like he’d interrupted something and the atmosphere was awkward. Adrien just wanted to get his coffee and leave them to whatever they were up to. Such was his relief when the coffee was ready, he handed Luka a €10 note.

“Keep the change,” he said, hurrying to leave.

“That’s too much. Adrien!” Luka called.

He turned back as the girl on the sofa looked up on hearing his name. The dark-haired girl’s face, though her eyes were red and puffy, cheeks stained with mascara and tears, and nose sore from blowing it, was familiar. She stared straight through him.

_Shit_.

He guessed Marinette had seen the photo of him and Chloé after all.


	8. Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey, you  
> I'm just now leaving  
> Can I come around later on this evening?  
> Or do you need time?  
> Yes, of course, that's fine  
> Hey, you  
> Good morning  
> I'm sure you're busy now, why else would you ignore me?  
> Or do you need space?  
> You can't help it if your mind has changed.”
> 
> Break My Heart Again, FINNEAS

> You have 8 missed calls.

Monday 23.04  
Adrien: _Marinette? Can you call me back, we need to talk xx_

Monday 23.05  
Luka: _Are you okay? You scared us when you ran off like that. Let me know you got home safe_ xox

You have 1 voicemail:  
_Received Monday, November 26th, 23.34: “Girl. Where are you? I haven’t heard your voice in three days and I miss you. Can you just call? Or send me a message and let me know you’re okay? I spoke to Rose yesterday and she said you haven’t seen the girl squad in a while, it’s not good to shut yourself away, Mari. Love you, call me?”_

Tuesday 06.30  
Adrien: _Good morning princess. Can I see you? I only want to talk xx_

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

“I think some of this is my fault, Adrikins. I knew Marinette at school and I wasn’t very nice to her.”

“You weren’t very nice to anyone back then,” Adrien huffed.

He wasn’t sure that brunch with Chloé was the best idea right now. She might have thick skin, but he was too salty for company today. He was likely to say something that hurt her feelings and he’d regret it if he did.

“Ouch, Adrien. However, I deserve that; I was especially not nice to her.”

“Wait… Was she?”

“Yes,” Chloé chuckled at the memory. “The girl I was in love with and consequently furious with for making me gay for her while she remained resolutely straight.”

“Did you ever tell her about it?”

She shrugged and took a sip of tea. “Nope.”

“Great. Thanks for retroactively ruining my life.” He slumped down in his chair.

“If I’m not the dramatic one in this relationship, then I don’t know what I bring to the dynamic. You need to dial it back a notch. Just talk to her, tell her I’m a friend. An adored, wonderful friend.”

Despite everything, he smiled. Chloé was his oldest friend—for a long time she was his only friend. As a teenager she was difficult and entitled, being her friend was hard work. Once she left school, she changed. She used the opportunity to reinvent herself and these days, he was honoured to be part of her inner circle.

“Adrien,” she put her hand on his. “If you want to tell her I’m into girls, do it. Whatever you need to bring her around.”

He shook his head, adamant.

“No, I’m not outing you for my own gain. You have a political career to consider.”

“Look, if I want to be in politics, I can’t afford to have skeletons in my closet, my sexuality included. It has to come out sometime.”

“Why would you do this for me and Marinette?”

“Because, Adrien,” she rolled her eyes like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You are my best friend and I want you to be happy. And, after the way I treated Marinette, I owe her, too. Besides, I kinda ship you two.”

He laughed.

“Thanks, Chlo.”

“Just remember this when you guys get married. Nino might be your best guy friend, but I’m helping you kids get your act together so I should be super important at the wedding.”

“You’re super important everywhere you go, Chloé,” he said.

Chloé mimed vomiting into the teapot.

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

Tuesday 11.59  
Adrien: _I miss you. Please talk to me xx_

Tuesday 12.02  
Adrien: _You should know, Chloé is just a friend. Can we talk? xx_

Tuesday 12.28  
Adrien: _Just… Call me? Xx_

You have 2 voicemails:  
_Received Tuesday, November 27, 12.35: “Girl, I’m one more missed call away from jumping on a plane and coming back to Paris. These silences scare me. Can you call or text me, please?”_

_Received Tuesday, November 27, 14.07: “Cherie, it’s maman. Your papa and I haven’t seen you in a while and we wanted to check you’re okay. Drop by for dinner some night this week, our door is always open for you. Love you.”_

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

Pushing open the door to La Sarcelle felt like returning to the scene of a crime. Mid-afternoon, the shop was bustling and the atmosphere was lighter than last night, but Adrien still felt foreboding. Behind the counter, he spied teal hair.

_Did Luka ever go home?!_

“Hey, man. The usual, please.”

The barista smiled kindly at him. “No worries. You doing okay?”

“Nope.”

“So, you and Mari, huh?” Luka said. “Are you a thing?”

Adrien shrugged. He honestly didn’t know how to answer that. They had more than just a one night stand, but what were they? He knew he had fallen in love with her in a few short weeks but had no idea if she felt the same. Did they have a future?

“For what it’s worth, she’s had a rough time of things over the past couple of years. I don’t think the tears last night were all on you.”

“Did she say anything?”

“Not really. There was self-recrimination, self-abuse, doubt… the usual. She’s in a bad place and, while I don’t think it has everything to do with you and Chloé Bourgois, I doubt that helped.” Luka looked pointedly at him.

_So, she did see the photo…_

He continued. “You know, I met Mari when she was at collège, she’s friends with my little sister. She was this timid girl with no faith in herself. Chloé bullied Mari for years, made her life miserable. That photo could have brought all that stuff back, you know?”

Adrien sighed. How was it possible that Chloé’s past was ruining his present?! That said, he understood why Marinette had been so upset.

“Thanks, Luka.”

He handed his coffee over, taking Adrien’s money. “Talk to her, man.”

“I’m trying to.”

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

   You have 3 missed calls.

Tuesday 22.03  
Adrien: _Mari, I’m worried about you. If you don’t want to talk, that’s fine, but please just let me know you’re alright? Xx_

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

“Hey, dude, what’s new?”

Adrien anguished groan should have been answer enough, but he elucidated. “The girl did see the photo and she’s refusing to speak to me.”

“Ah, man, that’s rough. She should at least let you explain.”

“Apparently, she knew Chloé when she was younger,” Adrien admitted.

“Let me guess,” Alya said. “Chloé was a bitch to her?”

“Yeah.”

“That puts her in good company,” Nino quipped.

“She’s not like that now. I wouldn’t be friends with her if she was. I cut all the toxic relationships out of my life for a reason. Why would I keep in touch with someone who’d drag me back to that place?!”

“You wouldn’t, dude, but does this girl know that? How much of your past have you told her? It’s not something you’re very forthcoming about and I bet you’ve given her the abridged version.”

Nino was right. He hadn’t told her the whole story. It wasn’t something he particularly enjoyed reliving so he tended to gloss over it. Life under his father was hell. Gabriel dictated every move he made, every lesson, every extra-curricular activity, every modelling job, every calorie he ate, every hour he slept. He had one friend, Chloé. His bodyguard escorted him everywhere, Nathalie ran his schedule. His parents were mostly absent.

Adrien puffed out his cheeks and exhaled loudly. “I need to speak to her.”

“Duh.”

“Alya! Not helping.”

“Sorry,” she chuckled. “Have you called her, sent texts?”

“Yes, Al. I’m not totally useless.”

“So you need a good reason to go see her. She’s a personal shopper, right?” Alya mused.

“Well, yeah… close enough.”

“Then you need to hire her again.”

“I do need a business casual outfit for a networking event next week,” he admitted.

The invitation had arrived while he was in Dublin and he’d tucked it away, meaning to ask Marinette for advice when he saw her next. He guessed there was no harm in trying to schedule a consultation.

Just one problem, though.

“That won’t work. She’s not answering my calls.”

Nino hummed thoughtfully. “Can you call her office? Or book an appointment online?

He didn’t think so. A quick look at her webpage proved him wrong. “Oh, yeah, I can book through her website.”

Alya squealed excitedly and Adrien heard her smack Nino in the arm.

“Ow, why do I get hit?!”

“Adrien is far away,” she laughed. “Did you do it yet?”

He clicked ‘send’. “Done.”

Nino and Alya cheered.

“I hope you remember all the help we gave you when you two finally get married,” Alya said. “I fully expect to be a witness.”

A message popped up on his screen.  
_Thank you for requesting an appointment with Lucky Charm Personal Stylists. Someone will review your request then confirm or deny your appointment within 12 hours_.

“I wouldn’t be so hasty, Al. She has to manually approve the appointment.”

“So close, dude. So close.”

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

You have 1 voicemail:  
_Received Tuesday, November 27, 22.15: “Hey, Marinette, this is weird, but it’s Chloé Bourgeois, from collège… Anyway, uh, I wanted to say I’m sorry for my behaviour when I was younger. I was angry and spoiled and very confused about things… If you ever want to get a drink with me, I’ll explain everything. So um, I guess you know by now that I’m friends with Adrien and I want you to know that he’s the greatest guy and he’d never hurt you. Just… give him a chance?”_

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

The email stared at her accusingly. She couldn’t take her eyes off it.

  
_To: Lucky Charm Personal Stylists_  
_From: server@luckycharmstylist.fr_  
_Subject: Someone Has Booked An Appointment_

 _ADRIEN AGRESTE has booked an appointment:_  
_Lucky Charm Personal Style Consultation_  
_Wed, 28 Nov 2018, 19:30_  
_Notes: Business casual, help?!_

_Please confirm or deny this appointment._

  
“Oh, Tikki, what should I do?”

The ladybug was, as always, silent on the matter. Marinette sighed and stared at the email on her screen, wishing that inertia would somehow resolve her dilemma for her. It didn’t.

_“Look at the company Adrien chooses to keep…”_

The photo threw her, the one that confirmed his friendship with Chloé. Of all the people to discover he was close to, her old bully was the worst possible scenario. She certainly didn’t expect to hear from her. Now, Marinette didn’t know what to think.

_“You’ve come far.”_

Adrien was a customer, she should see him. He was a young businessman with many eyes on him. He would be good for her. Good for Lucky Charm.

She didn’t want to see him. She’d embarrassed herself on Monday at the coffee shop and she couldn't understand why he insisted on calling and texting her. He should give up and accept that there was nothing more between them.

_“You've been distracted, I can tell.”_

She wanted to see him. Knew that if she saw him, there was every chance she’d lose all determination and give in to him. She missed him.

No.

She didn’t need him. She needed to concentrate on her work. Her designs had suffered as a result of letting him distract her. She couldn't afford to lose focus now.

_“It’s derivative. Uninspired.”_

She wanted to see him. Badly. Wanted to hear his voice, wanted to feel his arms around her.

He’s a distraction.

Sighing, she dragged her hand over her face. Why was this so difficult? Every fibre of her was craving him. She wanted his company; to talk to him. laugh with him, hold him and sleep next to him. Her heart was sure of that, but her head and gut couldn’t agree.

The ladybug scuttled across a leaf of her geranium plant by the window and Marinette shook her head at her.

“Look at you, not a care in the world except finding aphids. You don’t know how lucky you are… Possible pun not intended, Tikki.”

Her finger hovered over the trackpad, a moment's hesitation then she clicked.

  
…

  
Confirm.


	9. Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So let's not talk about it, let's not talk about it  
> 'Cause then we won't, no we won't  
> Have to do something about it  
> Or just dance around it  
> Until we don't  
> So I'll keep it all to myself  
> If you'll keep it all to yourself  
> And just spare me the details.”
> 
> Details, Maisie Peters

Sleep evaded her as she churned the decision over in her head. She wanted to see him, but why did he have to choose an appointment so late in the day?! The anticipation would be at the back of her mind all day, she knew. Already, she was tossing and turning at the prospect.

In the morning, feeling less refreshed than if she’d stayed up all night, she opened her wardrobe. She needed a power outfit. Red gave her confidence, so she selected a red handkerchief dress with large black polka dots. It stopped mid-calf so she selected a pointed black ankle boot with stiletto heel and threw a black waterfall jacket over it all.

As she twisted her hair into a loose chignon, she caught sight of herself in the mirror and giggled. Was she unconsciously channelling a ladybug in the hope it brought her luck?! She was wearing more makeup than usual to hide the redness around her nose and eyes, and it seemed to be working, she looked normal, if slightly more glamorous than most days. It was a mask. She was wearing a disguise.

“Will I do, Tikki?” She spun on the spot. “I’ll take your silence as a resounding maybe. Thank you for your support.”

Thankfully, she managed to focus on work all day. Her diary was full and it was easy to put off thinking about the last appointment. Her contact book was growing and Marinette considered employing someone part-time to take care of the administration side of the business. She had a networking event next week and if she gained new clients there, she’d have to give it serious thought. If it freed her up for more consultations, it would be worth it.

Seven-thirty came too quickly. Before she could mentally prepare herself, he was there. He looked timid, penitent.

“Marinette, before we start, can I just say this?” She nodded curtly. “I’m sorry that the photo of Chloé and I upset you, I didn’t know about your past, or I would have called to warn you. She’s explained things to me and I get she was a bully in the past, but she’s not like that now. I wouldn’t be friends with someone like that. Can we… move past this? Start over?”

She waved his apology away with her hand.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. The photo was triggering, I won’t deny it, but I shouldn’t have shut you out. I… I have things to deal with and sometimes I retreat into myself.”

“And now? Are you okay?”

She curled the edges of her lips upwards, attempting a smile. “I will be.”

Adrien’s brow furrowed and it looked like he might press her for more details. She wasn’t ready to let him into those places yet so she clapped her hands together and adopted her most business-like stance. She forced herself to suit up internally.

She was a professional.

She pulled a clothing rail out from behind her room divider and started to explain Business Casual. Earlier, she’d gone to the department store and selected suitable clothing in Adrien’s size. She had an arrangement with the store manager—she could borrow clothes in this way, secured with a deposit, so that her clients could try them on in the comfort of her atelier. It was just one of the ways she stood out from her competitors.

This was where she excelled, where she was comfortable and confident in herself.

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

“When it comes to Business Casual, the trick is to mix the casual elements with the smart in a way that still looks professional, but feels relaxed.”

Marinette leaned against her desk, she was too tense to sit down. Adrien imagined she’d been pacing the floor for most of the day, she had that sort of nervous energy about her.

“If you wear jeans, pair it with Oxfords and a dressier shirt. WIth chinos, you can get away with a t-shirt and leather sneakers.” She gestured to the shoes he was currently wearing. “The jacket defines the look. A blazer or sport jacket is ideal. A smart bomber jacket works too.”

The warm atmosphere from before was gone. Something more uncomfortable hung thickly in the air. Everything was off. Marinette seemed low but edgy and it was almost painful to behold. He saw the redness around her eyes, heard the heaviness in her voice. Makeup hid most of the evidence, but he knew what to look for, saw past her mask. She had been crying. She’d brushed off his apology like it was irrelevant, what was she hiding?

Behind her, the drawing board was skewed. The largest design on there was covered in spidery writing, a jarring contrast to her own neat notes. One sketch was obliterated by angry pencil lines, another lay crumpled on the floor.

He felt an overwhelming urge to protect her from whatever had caused this, to wrap her in his arms and never let go. But, she wasn’t herself. When she spoke, it sounded like someone had made a robot version of Marinette. It was her, but it she lacked heart and soul. She was running on autopilot and Adrien wanted to know why.

“I have a variety of options for you to try on. I don’t know if you need one Business Casual outfit or several so you can mix and match what I’ve got here.”

She passed him a pair of chinos and a long-sleeved t-shirt and nodded to the screen at the back of the room.

“Try these on.”

He was relieved to put even this flimsy barrier between them. As he dressed, he tried to pinpoint the moment when she changed. Sunday. They were incommunicado due to him travelling, then afterwards, she dropped off the radar. She claimed the photo wasn’t a problem, so what was?

He emerged from the screen. “I think I like Business Casual.”

She smiled thinly. At this point, he’d take it as a breakthrough.

“You’re not done.” She held out a blazer and he slipped his arms inside. “Better.”

She adjusted the collar and smoothed the shoulders. It was less gentle than last time, but the charge between them was still palpable. He felt the tingle, knew that his Marinette was still in there.

He looked in the mirror. “This is a great blazer. It fits perfectly, too. I’m sold.”

“This is outfit one of at least five, Adrien. Patience.”

The smile almost reached her eyes that time, her voice softened when she spoke his name. He was managing to distract her just enough from whatever was weighing her down that the sadness was starting to break.

“Okay,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “What’s next?”

“Take off the blazer and t-shirt and try the chinos with this,” she held out a fine-knit crewneck sweater.

He did what he was told. He removed the blazer and handed it back to her before ducking behind the screen to remove his t-shirt. Which was when he realised, Marinette was still holding the sweater.

_Oh well, I guess I’ll distract her some more…_

He came out from behind the screen and watched her eyes drop to his torso, her cheeks flushed pink.

“You, uh, have the sweater,” he pointed to the garment in her hands.

“Right. Um, yeah,” she held it out, frozen to the spot.

He stepped forward, expecting her to flinch. She didn’t. Now that he had her attention, it was time to get to the bottom of this.

“Marinette? Is there something going on? You’re not yourself today. Hell, this week.”

“It’s… I’m fine,” she insisted.

Something under the desk caught his eye. He bent down to inspect it. It was a fragment of a design. The shape of the Eiffel Tower just discernible under heavy scribbles, part of an arm was drawn where the paper was torn. What would have made her so upset that she’d destroy her own designs like this?

He moved closer, holding the shred of paper. “No. You’re not.”

“Honestly, it’s nothing. It’s stupid.” She turned away from him.

“Mari,” he was close enough that his breath rippled through her hair. “Tell me.”

He saw her face in profile, pain and anxiety clear to see. She bit her lip.

“I shouldn’t…It was weak. Derivative. I should be better.”

His heart shattered like glass at those words. How could someone as gifted as her think that way about themselves? He wanted to take away her suffering, show her how much she meant to him.

“Why would you say that? You’re talented.”

“No,” it came out as a whisper. “I’m nothing.”

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

“Marinette, stop it. You’re everything.”

He brushed a strand of hair out of her face and tilted her face, forcing her to look at him. She tried to look away but she was hypnotised by prasine eyes that seemed to see through the walls she put up, breaking her resolve.

She was falling.

After feeling numb for days she needed to be passionate about something. Someone. She craved him. She’d already broken every rule she had for Adrien, why should this one be different?

She kissed him. It was clumsy and their noses bumped as she found his lips, but it was warm and welcome and felt _right_. His arms around her grounded her and cleared her head, his strength made her feel safe, controlled. For the first time for four days, her mind was free, her body electrified.

Her sigh came out as something more guttural, more needy than she intended. He picked up on the want behind it and deepened the kiss, supple lips parting, letting her tongue explore his. Her nails ran down his back and he drew her closer, arching into her. He held onto her dress in fistfuls of fabric, tugging her into him.

Finally, he pulled away from her. “Should we, uh, reschedule this consultation?”

“We could… take it back to my place?” She suggested.

His smile was sunlight, “sounds like a plan.”

After Adrien changed back into his own clothes, Marinette gathered up the clothes and zipped them into suit carriers. They left her office and she led the way back to her flat. On the way there, she felt it necessary to manage Adrien’s expectations about the place. After seeing the grandeur of his penthouse, he might be expecting more than a tiny one-bedroom place in Bastille.

“I’m sure it’s lovely, Marinette.”

“Okay, but it’s a sixth of the size of your place, maybe smaller. And I don’t have a doorman or an elevator. You have to climb two and a half flights of stairs to get there.”

“Mari,” he laughed. “It’s your flat, I’m going to love it.”

She tried to ignore the warm feeling that gave her, but it spread through her chest, eradicating her nerves and self-doubt.

“Just don’t expect too much,” she said as she pushed open the front door

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

Whatever Marinette was trying to warn him against, she needn't have worried. Her apartment was warm and homely. In the main living room, a squashy armchair sat by the window next to a large pot plant. In the opposite corner, a small television was perched on shelving unit full of fashion magazines and DVDs. A small sofa and low coffee table took up the space between. The upholstery matched, but the styles didn’t and Adrien assumed Marinette had made the covers herself. Squashy pillows and a knitted throw over the sofa were a deep, luxurious fuschia. A whitewashed dining table was pushed against the wall, next to the front door, with a sewing machine on one end, an open laptop and paperwork on the other.

“Sorry, it’s a mess. I wasn’t expecting company.”

She bustled about, tidying an empty mug into the little kitchen area, moving shoes into the bedroom. Through the open door, he saw a neatly made bed, piled with blankets in various shades of pink, fairy lights wound around the headboard, and a wardrobe that ran the length of the room. When she slid one door over to return the shoes, he gasped at the volume of clothing inside.

“Did you make all of those?” He asked.

She turned red, “Most of it, yes. There are a couple of pairs of trousers in there that I bought, and the coats are mostly of the rack, except those four… I can never justify spending money on something I can make for myself.”

“This is incredible, Marinette. I didn’t know you were so prolific.”

“Well, quantity and quality are very distinct.”

“Hey, don’t talk yourself down! If it’s true that it takes ten thousand hours of practice to master a skill, you must be an expert by now.”

She laughed bitterly. “You’d think.”

What was it Luka had said? _“...self-recrimination, self-abuse, doubt… the usual…”_

She closed the wardrobe. “Anyway, we’re not here to look at my clothes. Shall we play dress up?”

That felt like a deflection.

“We _could_ play dress up…”

He wrapped his arms around her and felt her relax into them. If she didn’t want to talk right now, he’d respect that. He intended to get to bottom of things eventually, but he could divert her from her despondency for a while. He kissed her neck and she released a long sigh.

“...or,” he kissed her again. “We could just… _play_..?”

He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to her bed. As she kicked off her boots, he removed his t-shirt. She raised an eyebrow.

“What do you have in mind, Adrien?” she asked, a mischievous glint in her eye.

It was working, she was forgetting her troubles for a while. So was he.

“Who, me?” He smirked and climbed on the bed, “I can be quite distracting when I want to be.”

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

They finally got around to trying the rest of the outfits on Adrien before selecting two outfits. Marinette was zipping the rest into their suit carriers when her phone started to ring. She looked to Adrien, who was filling a glass of water at the kitchen sink.

“Do you..?”

“I don’t mind, answer it,” he smiled.

She saw the name on the screen and cursed under her breath at it. Knowing she’d be in more trouble if she didn’t answer, she took a deep breath and hit the speakerphone button.

“Hey, Al, what’s new?” she tried and failed to sound nonchalant.

Alya cheered sarcastically. “She lives! Nino and I were about to send out a search party.”

Behind her, Adrien choked on his water.

“Is someone with you?”

“Uh, I’m at the coffee shop,” Marinette glared at Adrien admonishingly.

“O-kay… We just wanted to check you’re okay, Maribug. I don’t like it when you go dark.”

“We love you Mar,” Nino added. “We hate the idea of you being sad and far away.”

Adrien turned purple and emitted a weird squeaking sound.

“I love you guys, too. Can I call you later? When I’m somewhere less,” she shook her head at Adrien. “Noisy?”

“Sure, girl. Speak soon, yeah?”

The moment she hung up, Adrien snorted before he dissolved into peals of laughter. His body convulsed until tears fell down his face. Marinette was utterly perplexed. Roars of laughter came in waves, just as she thought he was finished, a new burst began.

“I can’t breathe!” He gasped.

“What’s so funny?” She demanded, keen to be let in on the joke.

He composed himself just enough to squeeze out an answer. Marinette took his glass from him and had a drink.

“Your overseas best friend? Is marrying mine!”

Marinette spat her water over him.


	10. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “'Cause I got issues  
> But you got 'em too  
> So give 'em all to me  
> And I'll give mine to you  
> Bask in the glory  
> Of all our problems  
> 'Cause we got the kind of love  
> It takes to solve 'em  
> Yeah, I got issues  
> And one of them is how bad I need you.”
> 
> Issues, Julia Michaels

“What?!" Marinette choked as she handed Adrien a towel.

“My best friend… is Nino Lahiffe.”

He could see her brain sparking as she made connections and contemplated what the revelation meant. Adrien’s mind was racing, too.

“No way! How is that possible? Where did you even meet?”

“I worked in a music shop after… everything and he was one of those customers that practically lived there. We started talking and became friends”

“That’s crazy. He’s the friend I dated until we realised Alya and him were meant to be! He’s like a brother to me.”

_“I’ll kick your ass if you take her home on the first date. She’s like a sister to me.”_

_Oh, crap. Nino’s going to kill me._

“Wait… Have they been trying to set you up with someone?”

“Yeah, some old friend of Nino’s. From school days but not school… Oh. You?”

“Nino keeps telling me I should hire this really great stylist, who is very cute and probably better than whoever I’m seeing… Were you on a video call to Alya just before our first date?”

“I was. Why?”

“She was screaming with laughter about something, and Nino said she was talking to a friend who had a date that night. They were both giving us pep-talks for the same date! They’re going to die when we tell them this.”

Marinette’s eyebrow arched. It was disconcerting. How could so much mischief be held in one expression?

“What if we don’t tell them?” She said.

“Why?”

“Partly because you've just reminded me that Alya took way too much glee in giving me the fright of my life that night. Mainly, though, I want to see the looks on their faces when they finally figure it out. We can’t do that until they're here.”

“So you want to lie to them?”

“Not lie, per se. Just… neglect to mention the name of the person we’re seeing. Alya already calls you Cute Client, I can keep that going for a while longer.”

_Plus, what Nino doesn’t know, doesn’t hurt me…_

“Well, I guess it might be fun to mess with them,” he admitted.

Marinette's smile was wide and he felt his own match hers. It would be enjoyable to have a little fun with Nino, after all the grief he gave him about being useless at hitting on women.

“For now, let's just not mention each other’s names, we can figure out the rest when it's not midnight,” Marinette groaned at the time.” Do you want to stay tonight? It's a long way home.”

Adrien nodded, “Thanks, I don't think I could face the journey right now.”

That eyebrow quirked again. “Okay, but I plan to sleep. No funny business, kitty.”

“Who? Me? I think you’ll find that I plan to sleep, too,” he protested. “Hell, I’m not sure I even want to snuggle.”

Marinette’s laugh tinkled from the bedroom door.

“I’m serious!” He insisted, following her.

“Sure,” she smiled knowingly and slid under the sheets.

Adrien pulled back the blankets on the other side of the bed and climbed in beside Marinette. As he cosied into the mattress, getting comfortable, she leaned over to her bedside table and switched off the lamp. In the dark, he felt her warmth as she rolled back towards him.

He held his arm out and she snuggled into him, curling herself into his side. Adrien kissed the top of her head and heard a contented sigh escape his lips, her body relaxing into his.

“Sleep well, Princess.”

“G’night, Adrien,” she said sleepily. “Night night, Tikki.”

“Tikki?”

“My ladybug.”

Adrien had questions, but they’d have to wait. Marinette was already asleep. He lay and listened to her soft breaths until he dropped off too.

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

When she woke, her face was wet and Adrien was looking at her with concern. She sat up and wiped away the tears.

“Are you okay?” Adrien frowned. “You were muttering in your sleep.”

“Was I? Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, Mari. Can you remember what you were dreaming about?”

 _Gabriel under arrest. The look on his face when the police came into his office._ Nathalie, _lost for words…_

“No.” She closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to dislodge the images.

Adrien looked unconvinced. His brow furrowed and his lips were bloodless from where he’d pressed them together. She could see the worry in his eyes.

“Marinette, if you want to talk about it. About anything, I’m here for you.”

She wanted to tell him. Wanted to open up to him about every single thing that was burdening her. She wasn’t ready, not yet.

Smiling, she placed a hand tenderly on his cheek. “I will, I promise. But there's stuff I haven't told anyone, never even spoken it aloud. I need time to get my head around it.”

“I can wait.”

He drew her into a hug. Strong arms held her, sheltered her. She believed that he could protect her from him. Hoped that, when she finally opened up to him, he wouldn’t hate her. For now, she’d savour every moment with him.

“Do we have to get up now? Or can we stay here a little longer?” She asked.

His arms tightened around her, a sigh flowed through her hair.

“It’s 6am, I think we have some time.”

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

He walked her to her office, carrying the garment bags containing the rejected business casual items. She seemed lighter after their chat earlier. Adrien hadn’t learned anything new, didn’t get to the source of her pain, but at least she’d assured him that she would talk about it when she was ready. It was a start.

In the cold morning air, her hand in his was warm. She cuddled into his arm, sharing his body heat. When they reached her building, he remembered something he wanted to ask.

“So, who is… Tikki?”

Her cheeks flushed pink. “Ah, yes. It’s embarrassing.”

“You said something about a ladybug?”

Marinette stopped in her tracks and grabbed his other hand. The imploring look on her face seemed out of proportion to his question.

“You’re going to think I’m strange, but, there’s a ladybug who lives on my geranium plant and I started to talk to her when I was lonely. The name just came out one day and it stuck. You think I’m a massive weirdo now, don’t you?”

He wasn’t sure what melted his heart more, the concerned and bashful expression she wore, or the sheer adorableness of her story. He pressed his lips to her forehead, stifling a giggle.

“I already knew you were a massive weirdo, Mari. It’s all part of why I love you.”

Her mouth dropped open and a gasp escaped. “You… love me?”

The timing could have been better but he didn’t regret saying those words. He grinned and nodded.

“How could I not, you’re smart and witty, talented, driven, a little bit odd, a whole lot of fun and, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. I fell for you the moment I met you, Marinette.”

Through glassy eyes, she gazed back at him. Slowly, a smile spread across her lips.

“I love you, too, Adrien,” she whispered.

He wanted to sweep her up in his arms and spin her around, wished he could shout to everyone on the street, “he loves me, too!!” Instead, he tilted her chin towards him and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. On the first touch, they were cold but, soon, they warmed, the chill ebbing away.

If he could have stayed that way all day, he would.

“I have to get to work,” he reluctantly said. “Have a good day?”

“You, too,” she kissed him a final time.

Forcing himself to walk away, he already felt her absence, the lack of heat. He had fallen hard for her.

“Adrien?”

Her voice made him turn back.

“I’m, um, having dinner with my parents tonight. Would you… would you like to come?”

A new swarm of butterflies arrived in his stomach. It wasn’t just that he’d be meeting his girlfriend’s parents, he’d be taking a step back in time to (an albeit happy) place from an era he left behind. For Marinette, though, he’d do it.

“Of course.”

It was worth it for the joyous look on her face.

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

“I’ve just had a message from Mari. She wants to bring her boyfriend to dinner tonight.”

Tom looked up from the croissants he was rolling. “Did we know she had a boyfriend?”

“No.”

Sabine frowned. She was worried about Marinette. So often, she’d retreat into herself and refuse to talk about what was upsetting her, but she’d never hidden something like this before. Why would she not tell her mother that she had a boyfriend? Sabine hadn’t even known she was interested in someone.

“Well, it’s good that she wants us to meet him, right?”

“I suppose. She’s been down again, maybe this new relationship will lift her mood.”

“Who is he?” Tom asked.

“She didn’t say.”

“Hmmm, I guess we’ll find out for ourselves this evening.”

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

“Hey girl, what’s new?”

“Belted trousers are this season’s must-have item.”

“Does that ever get old?” Alya sighed.

“Never,” Marinette giggled.

“You’re in a good mood today, does that have anything to do with Cute Client spending the night?”

“How did you..?”

Sometimes, Marinette felt sure Alya had bugged her phone or installed surveillance cameras in her apartment. She knew more than normal intuition should reveal.

“Please. Did you expect me to believe that you were in a cafe at midnight last night? Girl, you had a guy in your flat and I know you well enough to know that it was one you’ve dated a few times.”

“Okay, fine. He was there. He spent the night. Are you happy?”

“Are _you_ happy?” Alya countered.

“I am, Al. Very much so.”

“That’s all I want, Maribug.”

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

Tom Dupain was larger than he remembered, even though he was at least a foot taller than the last time they met. The aura of protective father made him appear huge and Adrien wondered if he was concerned about his daughter associating herself with another Agreste. Sabine, however, was just as he recalled; sweet, welcoming, kind.

Over potée Auvergnate and red wine, Tom asked how long they had known each other.

“A couple of weeks, I guess. I hired Mari to help me find a tuxedo and she was so friendly, intelligent and caring, we had fun. After that, I wanted to get to know her more so I asked her to dinner.”

Marinette placed her hand over his. “And the rest is, very recent, history.”

Tom’s shoulders relaxed and his attitude warmed. Adrien supposed it was clear to see how much they cared about each other, maybe his reservations were more simple than he first assumed.

“Adrien, tell me. Do you know how Chadd is doing?” Sabine asked.

“He’s well, thanks. His wife, Kelly had a baby last year and he is working for Clara Nightingale these days.”

“How wonderful. He was such a gentle giant,” Sabine smiled.

“Chadd?” Marinette asked.

“My bodyguard when...“ he faltered. “I told you I used to come here after fencing classes? He’s the one who brought me. The one who tried to give me a normal childhood, as far as possible.”

Chadd was the closest thing Adrien had to a father-figure. He called the English ex-boxer, Gorilla, because he was fierce but gentle and he barely spoke in public, due to limited French. Over time, his vocabulary improved and he turned out to be very eloquent, but the name stuck. Even now, when he went to visit Chadd, Kelly and baby Rebecca, he’d unconsciously call him by his nickname.

Tom broke into his thoughts. “Do you still see him?”

“I do. When I first moved out, he helped me get a place in the street next to his. He and Kelly had me round for lunch every Sunday to make sure I was coping, and Gori- uh, Chadd would drop by to check on me. When I moved, I didn’t go far and, now, I see them once a month for dinner, plus occasional babysitting.”

“You poor boy, having to live alone at such a young age,” Sabine’s eyes shone with pity. “What you went through, nobody should have to deal with.”

Adrien smiled and swallowed a lump in his throat. This was why he was nervous about tonight, he knew his past would come up.

“Honestly? I was used to being lonely by then. Being out of the house and away from Gabriel’s control was such a relief, it didn’t bother me. Besides, I was able to go to a regular school for the first time, I had a part-time job where I met plenty of people of my own age. I had freedom and friendship—living alone was a small price to pay.”

“Was it really that awful at home?” Marinette’s voice was meek.

He nodded. “My mother was the most important person in the world, according to my father. I was… an inconvenience that forced my mother to share her love. Gabriel saw me as a commodity. I earned my place in the family by modelling to promote his business, learning piano to perform for his business partners, fencing for the accolades, and speaking Chinese to one day take his empire into new territories. I was isolated and ignored. Every move I made was timetabled by him and I lived in fear of disappointing him. It was oppressive, the best thing I ever did was get out of there.”

Tears pooled in his eyes and when he looked at Marinette, he saw that she was crying too. Across the table, Sabine sniffed and wiped her eyes with her napkin.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to bring the mood down like that.”

“Don’t apologise, son,” Tom smiled warmly. “You’re a strong, successful young man, you’ve overcome more than most and you should never be ashamed of that.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Call me Tom, you’re part of the family now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure you've noticed that it's not Wednesday... thanks for bearing with me and being patient. Imma be honest, I've been struggling with serious overwhelm this week and I needed to do a bit of self-care to get myself back to a writing place. I'm back, though and the next couple of chapters are already partly written so I won't make you wait again :)
> 
>  
> 
> Please indulge my headcanon re Gorilla. The name Chadd is an old English one, meaning protector, which I thought was fitting. Also, St Chad founded the Samaritans.


	11. Amis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Believe in  
> The gift of a friend  
> And when your hope crashes down  
> Shattering to the ground  
> You'll, you'll feel all alone  
> When you don't know which way to go  
> And there's no signs leading you home  
> You're not alone”
> 
> Gift Of A Friend, Demi Lovato

Marinette scrutinised herself in the mirror. She would be nervous enough to come face to face with Chloé on a normal day, but to meet her as Adrien’s girlfriend was terrifying. She was wearing her own designs, which left her open for double humiliation if Chloé didn’t like the outfit. Once for the fashion choice, again for her talent.

Her red pencil skirt clung to her figure and the black silk blouse was tucked in and buttoned just far enough to allow décolletage to show. In spite of the cool weather, she opted to go without stockings and chose a pair of six-inch black leather court shoes. Simple, elegant, smart. She accessorised with two silver bracelets made for her by Juleka for her last birthday and a pair of ruby stud earrings that she commissioned Rose to make in celebration of her first year in business. Her hair was down and she wore red lipstick for added confidence.

Slipping her lipstick and mascara into her bag, she readied to leave.

“Wish me luck, Tikki!” She called out and pulled the door closed.

First, though, it was time to meet her girl squad.

☆*☆

They were all already at La Sarcelle, seated in the same place as she and Luka were, just a few weeks ago. Rose waved to get her attention.

“Damn, Marinette, you look good. Did you dress up for us?” Alix wiggled her eyebrows and looked her up and down.

“Down, boy, it’s not for your benefit,” she grinned.

“I beg to differ, I’m benefitting hugely from the view. I’m going to the counter, you want the usual?”

“Um, a cappuccino, please.”

Alix made the sound of a record scratch and stopped what she was doing. She stared agog at Marinette. Juleka, Rose and Mylene followed suit.

“What? I switched favourite coffees,” she shrugged. “It happens.”

“Not to you, oh, creature of habit,” Alix insisted. “Don’t start telling the story until I get back with your… _cappuccino_ …”

As she sat in the armchair opposite the sofa containing Rose, Juleka and Mylene, she felt their eyes on her.

“I’m going out later,” she felt compelled to say.

Her friends simply nodded, awaiting Alix’s return to get the full story. Marinette willed Luka to make the coffees faster—eager now to tell them about Adrien, Chloé and the plan to surprise Alya and Nino.

“Okay,” Alix set the tray of coffees on the table. “Please explain why sexy!Marinette is gracing us with her presence today and why ‘expensive air’ is now your drink of choice.”

She rolled her eyes. “Luka talks too much.”

“Agreed, but you’re glowing, Mari. We haven’t seen you this happy in ages, tell us what caused it,” Mylene added.

“I met someone. A guy.”

The girls cheered.

“He was a client,” Marinette continued. “And he asked me out after our last consultation. We had dinner on Saturday night and… well, I didn’t get home until Monday morning.”

“Yeah, you did!” Alix whooped.

Several patrons turned to look at her, glaring at the disturbance to the peace. It didn’t bother her, she winked at the onlookers and grinned until they turned away.

“You can’t mention his name to Alya, though. Or Nino. It turns out, they were trying to set us up with each other and we want to tell them about it in person.”

Alix mimed locking her mouth and throwing away the key.

“You can trust us, Marinette,” Rose assured her as Juleka and Mylene nodded enthusiastically on either side of her.”

“So, tell us more about the guy,” Mylene prompted.

“Well, his name is Adrien and he’s a tech entrepreneur. He’s sweet and caring, and so beautiful I could cry. And, um, his best friend is Chloé Bourgois.”

She braced herself for their reactions. None of them had been immune from Chloé’s bad attitude at school. They didn’t disappoint.

“What?!”

“Are you joking?!”

“How does she have ANY friends?”

“ _That_ bitch?”

Marinette laughed, she could help it. Her friend’s loyalty to her was reassuring.

“I’m told she’s a better person these days.”

Juleka huffed, “she couldn’t be much worse.”

“I trust Adrien’s judgement, so I’m withholding mine for now.”

Alix sipped her coffee slowly, regarding her over the rim of the cup. When she returned it to the saucer, she gave her one of her rare serious looks.

“You’re a better person than I am, Mar. If I saw her again, I’d push her into a puddle.”

“Oh, I may still do that. I’m just going to give her a chance to prove herself first.”

They all giggled conspiratorially and Marinette took the opportunity to drink her cappuccino. Her nerves had subsided, meeting her friends first had been a good idea.

“What’s with the cappuccino, though?” Rose asked.

_Am I really so predictable that a change in coffee is such a big deal?_

“When we first met, it was for a breakfast meeting. Adrien brought coffee, but he didn’t know what I drank. Then, the morning after I stayed at his, he made me another one. It grew on me. Change is good, right?”

Rose leaned forward. “Honestly, Marinette, I think you needed a change. And if a new regular coffee is part of the deal, I’m all for it.”

“Thanks.”

Her friends were a gift. Whenever she went into one of her hide-from-the-world stages, she forgot how wonderful they were. How supportive and generous and honest they were. How often they let her talk about herself when they all had things going on in their own lives.

“Anyway, how are all of you? Tell me everything.”

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

“Dude, that’s huge!” Nino exclaimed.

“She’s just meeting Chloé, it’s not like she’s moving in.”

“You said she has a history with Chloé, right? The fact that she’s willing to meet her in spite of that shows she trusts you.”

“I guess…”

“You guess? Did something happen?”

“Not a specific thing, but I feel like she’s holding something back from me. I don’t know what, but she’s cagey.”

“I’m sorry man. Have you asked her about it?”

“Yeah. She said she’s not ready to talk about it yet.”

“That’s something. It’s not a refusal, at least.”

Adrien made a vaguely affirming noise. He wanted to believe what Nino said. Part of him, a selfish part that he was ashamed to admit to, wanted to be the one she trusted enough to be honest with. To be the only one. Now that he’d shared a little of his past with her, would she trust him enough to share some of herself?

Was he as bad as Gabriel? He tried to shake that thought, but it wouldn’t leave.

“Nino? Am I manipulative?”

“No! Dude, where did that come from?”

“I just… Sometimes I worry.”

“Adrien. You are not your father, okay?”

“But, I told her a little about my childhood. About life under Gabriel. And now… now I feel like she should share with me.”

  
“That’s not manipulative, unless you only told her so she would reciprocate?”

_Did he?_

_No._

“It was a spur of the moment thing, until Sab-s-someone asked about Chadd, I didn’t plan on saying anything.”

“Okay, then it doesn’t sound like you were calculating.”

If he really didn’t want to be like him, to be sure he wasn’t, he had to be honest with her. Tell her how he felt. He had to let her choose when she was ready to talk, be there for her and not force the issue.

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

Even in her most disturbing dreams, she never imagined a scenario where she’d be sharing a cocktail with Chloé Bourgeois. She certainly wouldn’t have predicted that she’d be enjoying her company. And yet, here she was. Laughing and joking with her old school bully like they were old friends.

“I knew you won’t believe this Marinette, but I had the biggest crush on you. That’s why I was such a bitch. It was easier to be angry at you than to admit to myself that I was gay. I’m sorry.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that. Should she have noticed that Chloé was suffering? She’d been too wrapped up in negativity towards her to even think to look for a deeper meaning behind her behaviour.

“Uh, thanks?”

Chloé laughed. Not that obnoxious noise she made at school, fake and forced. This was genuine, infectious and a little bit dirty.

“Look, I’m not expecting us to suddenly be best friends, but we both care about Adrien. I don’t want him to be conflicted by tension between us.”

“Agreed,” Marinette held her glass out and Chloé clinked hers against it. “To new beginnings?”

“I like the sound of that.”

As if he’d been eavesdropping the entire time, or perhaps waiting for a signal, Adrien appeared at the perfect moment.

“Hey, sorry I’m late. I was talking to Nino,” he smiled apologetically. “Everything okay here?”

He looked meaningfully at each woman, seeking assurance that all was well.

“Oh, Adrikins, we’re all adults here, just ask us outright.”

“Are you two on speaking terms? Or did one of you drop cyanide in the other’s Negroni?”

Marinette snorted into her drink. Chloé’s expression could have frozen Adrien to the spot.

“First of all, it’s a Boulevardier,” Chole lifted her glass towards him. “Secondly, I would never poison someone’s drink, I’m more stabby than that.”

“I was joking,” Adrien interrupted.

“And thirdly,” Marinette said. “We’ve talked about the reasons why Chloé was…”

“...an insufferable harpy…” Chloé added as Marinette floundered for a suitable descriptor.

“... at school. I’m now simultaneously flattered and guilty for not realising that she was in pain. We’re past it, though.”

Chloé touched her knee. “I was the one who made your life miserable, you shouldn’t feel responsible for me.”

“I can’t help it, it makes me sad to think that you were hurting,” Marinette took her hand and squeezed it. “I’m glad we got to talk like this.”

Adrien looked like he might cry with joy.

“I’m so pleased. You’re two of my favourite people, I want you to get on.”

“You have nothing to worry about, Adrien. We’re good.”

Marinette put her hand on his waist, feeling the softness of his wool sweater. She recognised it from that evening in her office and smiled.

“I like this sweater.”

He winked at her and the corners of his mouth quirked. “Me too.”

Chloé appraised him. “This might be the smartest I’ve seen you, Adrikins. Apart from the Business Awards night.”

He seemed to glow with pride. Standing up straighter, his shoulders back, chest puffed out. His wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

“It was all thanks to Mari. She selected the dinner suit and tailored it. The sweater is her find, too.”

Seeing her confusion, Marinette explained. “I’m a personal stylist.”

Her mouth fell into a perfect ‘O’. “Aren’t you a designer? I would have sworn you’d have had your own line by now.”

“She was working for Gabriel when he was arrested.” Adrien’s arm tightened around her.

“Shit, Marinette, I’m sorry.” Chloé shook her head, a pained frown knitting her brows together. “God, that guy just ruins all the lives he touches.”

Anger rose in her chest.

_How dare she say such things about Gabriel?! He was her idol, her hero and her mentor. Chloé didn’t know what she was talking about…_

_Except, she did. Chloé was there for Adrien’s childhood. She saw the way he was ignored, the expectations_ on _him. She knew Gabriel._

Marinette stood abruptly. “I… I have to go, I’m sorry.”

“Now?” Chloé asked.

“Yes, sorry. It was so good to see you again, but I…”

“...have to go?”

She managed to nod briefly before she ran out of the bar and around the corner of the building, into an alley. Alone, she let the tears fall. How could the same man that she respected, the man who nurtured her, be the one that neglected Adrien so? The man who Chloé reviled so much was the one who encouraged her, cared for her. It made no sense.

“Marinette?” Adrien stood in front of her. He must have followed her as she fled. “Talk to me. Please?”

Words seized in her throat. She wanted to tell him, desperately needed to unburden herself. Knew he would understand. She couldn’t get it out, though. That voice in her head, _his_ voice, stopped her, forced her to keep it in.

“I… I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Everything she thought she knew was breaking down around her.

Marinette sobbed as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. His embrace was her safe place so she let emotion take over. Her body shook and she whimpered at the catharsis the tears brought. Eventually, she felt him scoop her up and carry her to a waiting taxi.

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

Chloé’s face reflected his concern.

“Is she okay?” She frowned.

“Short version? I don’t think so.”

“Go after her. I’ll get us an Uber.”

He squeezed her shoulder as he rushed past her, hoping it conveyed his appreciation. Outside, Marinette was nowhere to be seen. Eyes darting around the street, he spied an alleyway and when he checked it, he found her, pacing and crying. Her face was a mixture of confusion and fear.

“Marinette? Talk to me. Please?” He pleaded.

Her mouth opened and closed, no words came out.

Then, “I… I can’t. I’m sorry.”

She broke down and fell into his waiting arms.

Just then, his phone rang. Chloé was waiting on the street with a taxi. Marinette didn’t notice the presence of another person in the cab, didn’t hear his and Chloé’s hushed voices, speaking in worried tones. She was barely even aware of him taking her bag to retrieve her keys.

While he wrapped her in a blanket and held her, calming her sobs, Chloé made a mug of sweet tea. She set it on the table in front of them before excusing herself, insisting that she could get another cab home and promising to let Adrien know she was safe.

As the door clicked shut behind him, he rocked Marinette, soothing her. He couldn’t tell if she heard his words but he spoke nonetheless.

“I wish you’d talk to me, but until you’re ready, I’ll be here whenever you need. I love you, princess.”


	12. Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “All my flowers grew back as thorns  
> Windows boarded up after the storm  
> He built a fire just to keep me warm  
> All the drama queens taking swings  
> All the jokers dressin' up as kings  
> They fade to nothing when I look at him  
> And I know I make the same mistakes every time  
> Bridges burn, I never learn, at least I did one thing right”
> 
> Call It What You Want, Taylor Swift

She was getting used to waking up in his arms, but this morning, something was off. They were on her sofa, not in bed. She was swaddled in a blanket and Adrien’s arms curled around her protectively.

“Hey princess,” he said softly. “How are you feeling?”

All the missing pieces from the previous night swirled into place like a large, unhappy jigsaw puzzle. The taxi ride home, Chloé and Adrien debating whether they should call her parents… or a doctor, Adrien holding her as she cried bitter tears into the night. It hadn’t been a nightmare.

She wished it had been.

“I’m sorry I frightened you and Chloé.”

“That’s not exactly my primary concern, Mari,” Adrien frowned. “I’m worried about you.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Mari, stop apologising. You know I’m willing to wait until you’re ready to talk, but until you do, I’m going to be concerned.”

Closing her eyes, she leaned into his chest, listening to his heart’s steady beat and feeling the calming rhythm of his breaths. He wrapped her in an embrace and his strength seemed to transfer into her. Releasing a deep, slow breath, she felt the heartbreak of last night ebb away to the recesses of her soul where she concealed it until another day.

She was used to pushing her emotions down, denying them. With Adrien, it was harder to ignore them; he made her feel so vividly that those ignored memories had started to bubble to the surface, too. Soon, she knew, they would boil over and she’d have to tell him everything.

For now, she locked it all away.

“Shall we go get coffee before work?” Adrien suggested. “La Sarcelle is close to both our offices.”

“Sounds good.”

He kissed the top of her head and she hummed contentedly. Wrenching herself away from him, she unravelled herself from her blanket and headed towards her bedroom. Adrien stretched and winced. He must have slept at an odd angle.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologising now?”

“You had to sleep on my lumpy sofa with lumpy me on top of you.”

He laughed. “Well, yeah, I did. A shower might help.”

“Help yourself. I should call Alya anyway.”

“Sure, sure…” a grin spread over his face, eyes twinkling with fiendish charm. “Or, you could join me and save water?”

“I'm unconvinced that any water will be saved that way,” she giggled. “On you go!”

“I’ll be so lonely!”

He feigned crying and her laughter rose like water from a spring. That was his gift, bringing a smile to her face, even in those times she felt like joy was impossible. She watched the door to the bathroom swing shut behind him and waited until she heard water running before she reached for her phone and called Alya.

“Hey girl, what’s new?” She greeted her.

“Oversized sweaters are a surprisingly sexy addition to your winter wardrobe.”

Alya groaned. “Why so chipper, Mari?”

She shrugged and smiled from ear to ear.

“I’m not complaining. It’s refreshing, actually.”

“You know what, Al? I feel like we always talk about me. Tell me how you and Nino are doing.”

“Well, Nino is going to Las Vegas next weekend for an all-night party so I’m treating myself to a spa break. American politics are still crazy so work is still busy, but I was due some time off. When he’s back, though, we’ve promised to have a serious conversation about when we’re coming home to get married.”

Marinette squealed. “YES!! I’m so excited for you guys.”

Alya chuckled. “Steady on, you’re more excited than we are.”

She might have said something else, Marinette didn’t know. At that moment, Adrien emerged from a steamy doorway with a towel wrapped around his waist. Drops of water fell from the ends of his hair and trickled down lightly tanned skin. The rivulets followed the undulations of his well-defined muscles before disappearing into towelling. Her eyes traced the path of one such drop, her jaw slack, mind wandering.

Adrien winked seductively. “Shower’s free, princess.”

“Is someone there?” Alya asked.

Her cheeks burned. “Uh, no, I just have something on my abs… no, on my chest… Um, I want to… uh…”

Adrien shook with silent laughter.

“Mari… do you have a guy there?”

She nodded.

“Say no more. We’ll speak another time. Love you Maribug.”

“Love you, Al,” Marinette signed off.

As soon as she was sure Alya was gone, she chucked a pillow at Adrien. He dodged it easily, still laughing at her. Eventually, she saw the funny side of it, too and joined in his mirth.

Happiness was easy with him around.  
  
☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

Adrien hadn’t expected the networking event to yield much interest in his business, but he was proved wrong when the second CEO slipped him their business card and intimated that they’d like to support a fledgeling tech inventor. By the time he found himself deep in conversation with Sam Frappant, the Director of Operations of the biggest research and development laboratory in Paris, he was glad he came.

Of course, the clothes Marinette picked for him helped to project confidence and professionalism. His soft brushed twill trousers in grey herringbone were surprisingly comfortable for something that wasn’t jeans, an effect that was aided by the all-black converse hi-tops on his feet. The white oxford shirt and charcoal cord blazer kept the overall look smart.

Yes, Marinette was worth her weight in gold. If he got the opportunity, he’d recommend her services to others here.

Then, across the room, he saw a ghost.

A spectre of his past, haunting him.

Nathalie Sancoeur.

She saw him and crossed the room towards him. He had no choice, he plastered a smile on his face and addressed her.

“Nathalie. I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Likewise, Adrien,” she nodded, as formal as ever. “I trust you are well?”

“I am, thank you. And you?”

“Yes.”

It was painful. Nathalie had always been starchy and serious, but as a child, she’d merely been another authority figure in his life. As an adult, her officiousness was incongruous, even in this businesslike setting.

It was a relief when Marinette arrived, looking around the room for a familiar face. As she approached, he expected her to head for him. Instead, she and Nathalie greeted each other like old friends.

Which, he mused, they sort of were. Old colleagues, at least.

“My dear, it’s good to see you,” Nathalie’s tone was soft, caring.

“Likewise,” Marinette hugged her.

_Nathalie hugs?!_

“And how is… everything?”

“Good, thanks. Business is growing and I have a buffer in place for the quiet period in January. I’ll be working on designs and writing plans for the rest of the year.”

“Excellent, Marinette. That sounds very wise.”

Adrien’s jaw dropped. He wasn’t sure what was more surprising, Nathalie’s kind demeanour or the familiarity between her and Marinette. It sounded like the pair had stayed in touch.

“Have you two spoken recently?” He had to ask.

“I advise Marinette on business matters. Not that it’s any of your concern,” Nathalie said.

“I kind of does concern me,” he looked to Marinette, who was suddenly interested in her shoes. “Mari?”

Her cheeks flushed and she struggled to look either of them in the eye.

“Uh, yeah. Adrien and I are... we’re t-t-together,” she stammered.

One of Nathalie’s eyebrows shot up. “You are?”

“Yes,” Adrien took a step closer to Marinette.

His fingers brushed her hand and she startled.

“I… I need some air.”

He regarded the now familiar sight of her running from the room. Nathalie stared at him and he avoided her gaze. Whatever she was thinking, he didn’t want to know.

Sighing, he followed where Marinette had left and found her pacing the pavement outside the venue.

“Marinette?”

She stopped. Arms crossed, eyes wide. Staring.

“I don’t hate him, you know. He was strict but kind, and he was my mentor. His critique was helpful and I grew as a designer under him. I- I- I trusted him.”

_Was this what she’d been bottling up? Was she worried he wouldn’t be able to relate?_

“But, I knew,” she sobbed, letting her tears fall freely.

“You knew? What did you know?”

“I saw something. It was a discrepancy on a huge order. I went to Nathalie about it, I showed her what I’d found.”

“What did she say?”

“That I was mistaken. Gabriel would never make a mistake like that. I must be wrong. I wanted to ask him about it, but she strongly implied that if I did, it would be the last time I spoke to him,” she kicked the ground. “I wanted a career.”

Anger boiled inside Adrien, he knew how intimidating Nathalie could be when she wanted to, and how devoted she was to protecting Gabriel. He remembered how unmoving she’d been whenever he’d requested time with his own father.

She continued, “I was in his office when the police came. He used to set me extra tasks to help strengthen my weak points, we'd meet once a month. I was with him when the police pushed in and arrested him. He looked… I don't know, resigned. Like he was expecting it. Afterwards, Nathalie and I just stood there in shock for ages before someone came to tell us they were raiding the offices. It was awful.”

“Oh, Marinette.” He tried to reach out to her but she started pacing again.

“I didn’t tell anyone, not even the police. They questioned me for hours and I didn’t say anything. You're the first human I've spoken to about it.”

Okay, so there was more to it, but he could understand. Gabriel demanded loyalty and he knew from experience the need to show it.

“That's not all.”

“There’s more?” He couldn’t conceal his surprise.

“When I started Lucky Charm, I was running it from my apartment and meeting clients in department stores and coffee shops. I met Nathalie at a networking event like that one and told her what I was doing. She said it would be more professional to run it from an office, but I couldn’t afford it. A week later, a letter arrived, welcoming me to the Marais Artist’s Studio Community.”

“Nathalie paid for it?”

“That’s what I thought, so I spoke to her. It wasn’t her money.”

“Then… Oh.”

He suddenly understood why she wasn’t moving on from what happened. She still wasn’t free.

“It’s Gabriel’s. He had Nathalie ringfence a fund to support certain staff members. He’s been paying for my atelier for a year.”

“Marinette, that’s not his money to give!”

“You don’t understand, without him, I’d have no business. I need him to be successful.”

“You don’t. You are smart and talented. You’re great at what you do, Marinette. All by yourself, nothing to do with him.”

“No. I’m nothing without him. I can’t do anything without his help.”

An all too familiar frustration buzzed in his brain. He’d heard those words before. His mother had spoken them countless times.

He shook his head. “You can do anything, Mari. You are _everything_.”

“No… I…”

“You don’t need him,” Adrien insisted. “You are capable of anything and you don’t need his help. He's in your head, Mari. That's what he does. You can escape him, though—I did, so did my mother. You're stronger than anyone I know, you can do it too.”

Shaking her head vehemently, she crossed her arms. “He said you’d try to drive us apart.”

“Wait, what? When did he say that?”

“When I last visited him.”

“You… visit him?” He struggled to comprehend. “How? Where? When?”

“In prison. Last time was the Sunday you got back from Dublin.” 


	13. Gabe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I wish I could get you  
> Out of my mind  
> But I think about it all the time  
> And I wish I could not think  
> For once in my life  
> But when I see your face  
> I can't escape my mind.”
> 
> Escape My Mind, Grace Vanderwaal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Trigger Warning: This chapter depicts an emotionally manipulative relationship playing out. ***

** *That* Sunday… **

He sat across from her in a crisply pressed shirt the same icy-blue shade as his eyes, the cuffs were turned up to reveal muscular forearms. It added strength to the air of mastery he exuded. Even in this setting, he was debonair, refined. Through his polished exterior, she saw his eyes light up at the printed photo on the desk. Two even folds in the image revealed it had been posted to him. By Nathalie, she guessed.

“This suit is from Le Chasseur if I’m not mistaken. Exquisitely tailored. Your handiwork?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’ve come far over the past year. I’m very proud.”

“Thank you. I know the velvet isn’t traditional, but…”

“...it works. Elegant, dapper. A good choice, Miss Marinette.”

Gabriel sighed and ran his finger down the edge of the page, as if scared to touch the image itself. Silence fell between them as both studied the photo of Adrien. Marinette wondered how Gabriel felt when his son was emancipated, would be have been upset? For all that he was emotionally distant, he undeniably loved his son.

“You met him?” He asked eventually.

She nodded, not sure how much detail to give.

“You like him?” He guessed.

Although Gabriel could be emotionally distant, he had a disconcerting ability to read others’ feelings with alarming accuracy. She should have known not to hide anything from him. It never worked in the past, why should these feelings on this day be any different.

“We… we had a date.”

She winced. It felt like a betrayal to Adrien to reduce it to that. In the short time they’d known each other, he’d clicked into her life like he’d always been there. She craved him; his company, his touch, the sunlight his smile brought. ‘A date’ didn’t begin to describe the depths of their newfound relationship.

Gabriel pursed his lips and frowned. “Tread carefully, Miss Marinette. He might be my son, but I feel compelled to warn you. Adrien is too like his mother: overly-dramatic and self-absorbed, with a proclivity to run away instead of facing one’s problems. He’s likely to hurt you. Look at this photo, you see this woman?”

“It’s Chloé Bourgeois,” she said. “I know her from school”

“You told me that. You also told me that she made your life miserable, yes?”

“She did, but…”

As the daughter of bakers, with no money or famous friends to impress, Marinette was never going to be good enough for Chloé. The girl bullied her mercilessly for years. Before Alya came to Collège Françoise Dupont, Marinette had few friends. All were too scared of Chloé’s ire to get close to her. But, that was in the past now, wasn’t it?

“Look at the company Adrien chooses to keep. Chloé is vicious and conniving, she will poison him against you. He is weak, he will let her. That should tell you all you need to know about his true character.”

“Yes, sir.”

“He's not to be trusted. If he found out that you and I speak, his jealousy would compel him to drive us apart.”

“I understand, sir, but...”

Gabriel flipped the printout so that Adrien and Chloé were now face-down on the table, putting a full-stop to further mention of him.

“Tell me, Marinette, are you still designing your friend's wedding dress?”

“I am,” she said eagerly.

“And you brought the sketches?

In spite of the added hassle of bringing them, she had. Before entering the visitor’s room, she had to subject her sketchbook to a thorough search; guards rifling through to hunt for any contraband items she might have concealed in its pages. There was something violating about the process and she’d happily avoid it, except that Gabriel had come to expect it. She couldn’t let him down.

She placed her sketchbook on the table and opened it to the page containing the newly inspired design for Alya’s gown. Gabriel gazed intently at it, his sharp eyes taking in every pencil stroke and appraising them.

“She’s a pragmatic person, but I wanted to add hints of romance to the design. Did I go too far?

“Not at all.” He reached for her pencil, brushing her hand as he did. “May I?

He moved quickly across the drawing, adding embellishments and notes. She watched in awe as his pencil strokes refined the design tenfold.

“You are improving immensely. However, your seam allowance is too small, you should have a French seam here. Additionally, the balance between the neckline at the front and back is off, you’ll have gaping if you don’t address that.”

“Yes, sir.”

“The draping here is unrealistic, you won’t translate that to your fabric choice.”

“Yes, sir.”

He put the pencil down and Marinette shrunk in her seat at the disapproval on his face. He was unhappy with her. It was her worst fear, to disappoint him, and yet, here she was.

“You've been distracted, I can tell from the quality of your work. It’s derivative. Uninspired.”

He saw her crestfallen expression and put his hand over hers.

“I can see weak points, definitely things to work on, but the quality is better than last time,” his voice was soft now. “We will get you there, together, Marinette.”

Her heart filled with pride, he thought she was getting better!

“Thank you, sir.”

The guard cleared his throat. “No contact.”

His eyes glinted and he glared at the guard. In a different situation, he would have never allowed someone to tell him what to do. Until his incarceration, he was seldom told ‘no’.

Gabriel took his hand from hers and smiled kindly at her. He might have a reputation for being hard and soulless, but Marinette saw a different side of him. A softer, nurturing side. It made her wonder what made Adrien choose to leave him; was he as unreliable as Gabriel suggested?

“As I was saying,” his eyes flickered to the guard once more. “You have raw, unrefined talent and I want to mould that into something that changes the fashion game completely. You are my legacy, Marinette. A diamond I need to polish before it dazzles the world.”

His words fell to a low whisper and Marinette was transfixed. Piercing grey-blue eyes probed her innermost thoughts, seeming to sparkle when he knew he had her total devotion.

“Thank you, sir.”

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

  
All background noise was muffled, like that temporary deafness you get after leaving a loud concert. However, he heard her words as clear as a bell.

_“When I last visited him… In prison. Last time was the Sunday you got back from Dublin.”_

As she relayed that tale of her last visit, the picture came into view, familiar, unpleasant and desperate.

Gabriel was the reason for her nightmares, for her sadness and lack of self-esteem. He was still controlling her. He’d placed himself in charge of her finances, her business and her designs. Breaking her down when he needed to and building her up again in his image.

Memories of his childhood played through his mind, a bitter slideshow that haunted his worst moments. His mother, tear-stained and shattered after she disappointed him, begging for redemption, promising to do better. Nathalie, regretful and scared, sneaking from the mansion, returning hardened, unfeeling. The structure, the routine, the expectation. Walking on eggshells.

Years of talking therapy had healed the wounds, but scars remained.

Could he help Marinette to escape Gabriel’s clutches, or would he be dragged back into the morass with her?

“How often do you visit?” He asked.

“Every other month. I’ve been there eight times in total.”

“Why?”

“Nobody would hire me, afterwards. I want to be a designer, need to improve and grow and only one person would mentor me; Gabriel.”

“That can’t be true, Mari.” Already, he was thinking of ways he could help her.

“It is. I… I’m worthless, I need him to help me. And now, he’ll find out I’m with you, after he told me to stay away. What if he cuts me off?!”

“Marinette, you’ll find someone else to mentor you. I’ll help.”

He reached out to her and this time, she accepted his comfort. Holding her tightly, he hoped he was easing her distress, just a little. He kissed the top of her head and squeezed her shoulders.

How could he demonstrate to her that she was precious and valued? He loved her more than he thought possible, but what would happen if he failed to free her from his father’s Machiavellian machinations? Could he let her go?

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

Who should she believe? The man who continued to cultivate her design skills, who showed interest in her, even when she was a lowly seamstress, and helped her develop and grow? He had been her hero and idol for as long as she’d loved fashion. Gabriel was her mentor, her benefactor, and her debt to him was larger than she could ever repay.

Or, should she take the word of the boy who had only ever shown care and affection towards her? Who made her palms sweaty and her body tingle at the mere thought of his touch. She tried to push him away and he didn’t run. He waited patiently for her, reaching into the abyss and offering a lifeline. He made her feel worthwhile, valid, able to do anything, his love breathed life into her soul.

He seemed kind and honest, but his own father disagreed.

She was already confused before she met Chloé. Caring, generous, fun Chloé—repentant for her past actions, quick to forgive and forget. Not the cruel and heartless woman Gabriel described. Perhaps he was mistaken, maybe he was unaware that Chloé had changed? On the other hand, what if he told her that to prevent her from ever opting to meet Chloé and finding out the truth for herself?

The nagging doubts in the recesses of her mind always grew louder in Adrien’s company.

Gabriel had been good to her for a long time, though.

“I’m sorry, Adrien. I need some time to think.”

Leaving the sanctuary of his embrace was one of the hardest things she’d done. She needed to clear her head, find her own thoughts in there. Needed to be alone.

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

He watched her go, knew it was futile to chase her now. Instead, he pulled out his phone.

After he cut the toxic influences from his life, Nino questioned why he maintained his friendship with Chloé. Deep down, he knew she was redeemable, understood her family circumstances, her desire to be loved and appreciated for who she was. Her need for her mother’s approval. He saw the good in her.

There was another reason, though. A compelling one.

“Salut!” She answered his call.

“Chlo, can you get Audrey to call me, please? I need to get a message to my mother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to [TOG84](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TOG84/pseuds/TOG84) for being a willing pair of ears while I was plotting out this chapter… and for keeping quiet in the comments when you knew what was coming!


	14. Gino

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I will search for you  
> Till there's no more breath left in my lungs  
> I will keep you safe  
> From the monsters in the dark.”
> 
> Find You, The Phantoms

The photo of Plagg was captioned, _good meow-ning, purr-incess xx_. She giggled. Every morning since that evening when she spilled out all her secrets, Adrien sent her a sweet message, usually a photo of the cat. There was no expectation to respond, no pressure, no deadline, and she was grateful for that.

She wanted to contact him, wanted them to pick up their relationship where they’d left off but, how? She was broken and she hated the idea that he might feel compelled to fix her. For all that she knew she needed to deal with what had passed and figure out where her relationship with Gabriel stood, it terrified her that she would simply replace her reliance on him with a reliance on Adrien.

He was different from Gabriel. At a distance, she could see that. His manner was relaxed, he was naturally kind and considerate, he was warm. She pictured him, the way his smile lit up his face, the twinkle in his eye when he looked at her. She loved him, that much she knew.

But, she also knew that she would visit Gabriel again and she would believe every word he spoke. She idolised him, _needed_ his validation. It wasn’t easy to walk away from that.

How to explain that to Adrien?

The phone broke her train of thought and she glared at it. She’d cleared her appointment book for the afternoon to get on top of her growing pile of admin and she’d asked Elise not to let any calls through. Yet, Elise was calling.

“Ouai?” She sighed, planning to brush her off.

“Marinette, there’s a Gino Valletta here to see you.”

That got her attention. She sat up straight in her office chair. Surely Elise was mistaken?!

“No, there’s not.”

Gino Valletta was a world-renowned designer; the grandfather of modern fashion, an icon. He was most likely in Milan, where his headquarters were. Not in Paris, not in Marinette’s building.

“Mari, he showed me ID. It is him.”

“Why?!” A wave of nerves drenched her. “Okay, I’ll come down.”

“Henri is already escorting him up to you.”

She looked around her office, sharp eyes scanning for anything he might disapprove of. Her designs were on the board, including the one that Gabriel criticised so roundly. She’d tried to improve them, but she wasn’t sure if they were of a standard suitable for Gino Valletta. Was there time to remove them?

Henri knocked her door. No. There was no time.

Marinette smoothed her dress and took a deep breath before she opened the door. Henri merely winked and left her alone with the legend.

“Mr Valletta, I’m pleased to meet you.”

Gino wandered into her atelier and looked around nonchalantly.

“Please, call me Gino.”

He was tall, at least 6 foot, with salt and pepper hair worn in a side parting. His smile was wide and genuine, and his brown eyes twinkled with joy. Casually dressed, he wore stone wash jeans, a white Oxford shirt, and navy blazer, all of it sharply tailored. He carried himself with relaxed authority; he was nowhere near as intimidating as someone of his status could be.

“Uh, Gino. Would you like to have a seat?” She gestured to the armchairs.

“Thank you. I imagine you’re wondering why I’m here?”

“It’s one of many thoughts I have right now.”

He laughed. A hearty, booming sound that calmed some of her nerves.

“Well, I happen to know young Adrien and I simply had to meet the person who got him out of those ghastly t-shirts and into such a stunning dinner suit.”

“You know about that?!”

“Certamente! I have a soft spot for the boy, I like to check up on him when I can. I saw that he won an award and when I saw his photo I went digging. He mentioned your business to the event organisers, I got a name and,” he gestured to the room. “Here I am.”

There were so many questions she wanted to ask. _Why are you here? Are you sure you want to see me?_ The one that won the race from brain to lips was…

“Why are you in Paris?”

“My dear, Paris is always a good idea,” that sonorous laugh again. “In this case, however, it’s personal. My husband is performing with Paris Opera until Christmas Eve so I’m here to support him. While I’m here and he’s in rehearsal, I thought I'd acquaint myself with some emerging talent.”

He pointed directly at Marinette, in case there was any doubt he meant her.

“Oh,” she didn’t know how to respond.

“Anyway, I couldn’t help but notice that you opted for a British cut on Adrien’s suit. Not a fan of Italian?”

“Well, the Dinner Suit was a British creation, it would be a disservice to Henry Poole & Co to have it any other way. I personally think that Adrien’s physique would look best in an Italian cut suit, and if he even asks me to help him find one, that’s what I’d steer him towards.”

Gino nodded approvingly. “I like that. You have a good eye.”  
  
“Thank you.”

“What are your thoughts on the double-breasted suit? It has made quite the resurgence, no?”

“They can be very stylish, if done properly.”

Gino leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Explain.”

“The attempt to modernise the look has brought some problematic elements to the fore. As far as I’m concerned, the V-formation double-breasted suit is an abomination, it destroys the line. And don’t get me started on jackets with four buttons. Six, Y-formation buttons are the only way to go. Update it with lighter fabrics, slimmer cuts, don’t mess with the form.

He grinned. “I completely agree. Tell me, do you still design?”

“For myself, mostly, but I have a few clients who want original pieces, or have a vision for an item that doesn't exist in the stores. I’ll create bespoke pieces for them.”

“May I?”

He stood up and walked over to her drawing board. She jumped up and followed, terrified to hear his thoughts. Her design skills were still a work in progress and far from where Gabriel wanted her to be—Gino’s standards would surely be even higher.

“This dress,” he touched the drawing of Alya’s wedding dress.

She winced, it was the draft that Gabriel had so roundly criticized. She had tried to redraw it and improve it, but in her frustration she had ripped those designs up. She wanted so much to please him and exasperation had taken over when she couldn't.

“It… It was for my friend, but…”

“It’s beautiful Marinetta, miracoloso. I insist you make this. You would be depriving the world if you didn’t.”

“Really?!”

“Yes,” his face was serious, passionate. “It is inspired. You based it on the Eiffel Tower at night, no?”

Words failed her. She wanted to scream with delight, to throw her arms around him and squeeze him tight. He not only liked her design, but he also recognised her source of inspiration without her prompting him. Gabriel either hadn’t noticed or didn’t think it worth mentioning.

“I did. It’s a symbol of hope and strength and so distinctly Parisian, I had to use it as the foundation for Alya’s wedding dress. She is all those things, too, and her relationship with Nino, her fiance, is as lasting and iconic to me as the tower.”

Gino’s head bobbed as he listened to her. He seemed entranced by her words.

“You have the heart of a designer. I do not understand why Gabriel blackballed you.”

“Pardon?”

His shocked expression must have matched hers.

“You didn’t know?”

She slowly and deliberately shook her head. His eyes closed in resignation, when he opened them again, he had set a look of resolution on his face.

“This is not the type of thing we should discuss without a cocktail in hand. May I buy you a drink?”

In a daze, she grabbed her coat and bag. She locked her office in autopilot and followed Gino from the building, mind racing. Why would Gabriel have her blacklisted? It didn’t make any sense. Perpendicular to her street, they found a lively cocktail bar, on Rue Vieille du Temple.

“Cincin,” Gino said and clicked his martini glass against Marinette's Old Fashioned and sat back in his chair

“So,” he continued. “I guess I have some explaining to do about what I said in your office?”

“I would like to know what you meant, yes.”

“When Gabriel's business went into administration, me and all the other top designers rather became vultures and started picking off the best and brightest for ourselves. We immediately tried to headhunt the most promising designers and recruit them for our own fashion houses.”

Her heart sunk. Nobody had tried to recruit her, she obviously wasn’t a talent worth stealing.

“I tried to get you, Marinetta. And I know for a fact that another house in London and one here in Paris tried too. But, We couldn’t get past Nathalie. She blocked every attempt to get in contact with you. I eventually found out via my assistant that Gabriel had prohibited it. He wanted you for himself.”

“What?”

_Could this be true?! Did she trust Gino enough to take his word for it? This was adding to her confusion._

“You really didn’t know any of this?” Gino looked aghast.

“No. I applied for every job I could at every fashion house possible,” Marinette explained. “I was met by a wall of Dear John’s. I assumed that my connection to Gabriel was a barrier, but I didn’t know that he was expressly preventing me from finding another job.”

“My dear, I’m sorry. More so that I had to be the bearer of such bad news.”

“Thank you for telling me, Gino. I just wish I knew why he did this.”

“I… I have an idea.”

“You do? I’d like to hear it.”

“Emilie Agreste was a dear friend to me, I knew her parents, but after she married Gabriel, I was shut out of her life. Gabriel was jealous and possessive. He wanted Emilie to himself. I believe, my dear Marinette, that you had a lucky escape. I am certain he wanted to make you his property, too.”

Gabriel had shown her a different side. Kind and nurturing, not the proprietorial, protective man others saw. How was it possible that the same man could be viewed so differently by others? Had she been misled?

“If what you're saying is true, I fear I'm already heading that way. Have you… spoken to Adrien recently?”

“Not for many months.”

“Well, Gabriel pays rent for my atelier. He already owns me.”

Gino slammed his glass on the table, martini slopping over the rim. He didn’t seem to notice, or care.

“No longer! I will take over the payment.”

“No, please, I wouldn't know how to repay you.”

“Knowing you’re no longer in debt to that man will be enough for me. As it happens, however, I have a proposition for you.”

Marinette placed her own glass carefully next to Gino’s. She had skipped lunch and she was feeling the buzz from the bourbon faster than usual. With no idea what he was about to say next, she needed to keep a clear head to give him her full attention.

“I want to work with you.”

Her brain stuttered.

“You… you want to train me?”

A resonant guffaw was her reply. Gino’s face creased in genuine amusement at that.

“You misunderstand, Marinetta. I want to collaborate with you. I wish to develop a new bridal collection, Valletta x MDC, with your Eiffel Tower dress as the centrepiece.”

“Oh… oh! Really? But that was meant to be Alya’s dress,” she faltered.

As wonderful as this opportunity was, she promised her best friend a wedding gown and she wasn’t planning on letting her down.

“Of course, she must be the first to wear it. Perhaps we could even name it after her? Picture it, brides across the world, walking down the aisle, wearing The Alya.”

Normally, she’d talk big decisions like this through with Nino and Alya, but she had a feeling they might be more than a little biased this time around. Besides, there was only one man she wanted to share this with.

“Can I think about it?” She asked.

“Absolutely. This is not something you can agree to rashly. Take all the time you need.”

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

“Have you heard from her yet?”

“No,” Adrien sighed. “She said she needed time.”

“Bro, ‘time’ is a couple of days, It’s been nearly two weeks.”

Adrien wanted to agree with Nino, but after all the revelations outside the networking event, he wasn’t surprised that Marinette was taking so long to get her head together. He messaged her every morning and she always replied with a heart emoji, but they hadn’t spoken.

“I know. She’s got a lot to deal with though.”

“We all have a lot to deal with, but cutting you out isn’t helping.”

Should he tell Nino? He was still unaware that Adrien’s girlfriend was Marinette so he wasn’t breaking her trust. Besides, he had to talk to someone.

“I understand why she is, since my father is the source of her pain. She worked for him.”

“Dude. That’s rough.”

“Yeah, it turns out that he kept in contact with her and she’s pretty confused over it all. He’s got a hold over her.”

“Woah. Is that why she’s with you? Did he tell her to?”

  
“The opposite, actually. He tried to get her to leave me. I think that’s part of her issue right now, she’s conflicted.”

He sighed. Sometimes, he wondered if he was expecting too much too soon from her.

“Damn. I remember when Marinette—that’s the friend I was telling you about—lost her job at Gabriel, it was rough. She was devastated and I’m still not sure if she’s completely over it. Add your father’s head games into the mix, and this girl must be seriously messed up.”

“Extremely insightful words, Nino.”

_More perceptive than you know._

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

In front of that imposing building, Marinette steeled herself to see him again. She made small talk with the guard before he permitted her entry.

Would he be pleased to see her? Angry? Would he even want her there? As she approached, anxiety clutched her windpipe, making her breathless. Part of her wanted to turn and run, this was a bad idea. Yet, she needed to see him.

A deep cleansing breath prepared her to see his face.

“Hi, can I come in?” She asked.

His tousled hair almost hid sparkling green eyes, but not quite. From behind his blonde mop, he grinned.

“You’re always welcome, Mari,” Adrien said.


	15. Prêt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm winding along this road  
> Not knowing where you will go  
> No matter what life brings  
> If it's you and me  
> We're ready for anything  
> Watch you  
> The clouds go by  
> Our turn  
> We'll learn to fly  
> No matter what life brings  
> If it's you and me  
> We're ready for anything"
> 
> Ready For Anything, Landon Austin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, remember me?! I took an impromptu break over the holidays because writing and having my son home from school is not a good mix. Anyway, I'm back now for your regularly scheduled Adrienette fluff and angst. Thank you (most of you) for your patience, I know I disappeared without explanation, but sometimes real life gets in the way of fan fiction!
> 
> Anyway, happy new year to all. I hope 2019 is full of awesome things for you :)

Marinette stood at his door, scared and unsure. Her hands twisted and fingers intertwined as she wrung them. It had taken all her strength to come here, he could tell. Adrien hadn’t realised how much he’d missed her until she was standing her in front of him. He wanted to scoop her up and kiss her, but her body language was defensive and he was didn't know how she’d react.

“I’m broken, I know that,” she began tentatively. “But I don’t want you to fix me.”

“Uh…”

That was a blow. He wanted to help her, to make her whole again. Did she want to remain broken? Or was she ending the relationship?

“Look, Adrien, I love you and I want this relationship to work, and I think that if you were the one who fixed me, I’d feel indebted to you in an unhealthy way, you know?”

He nodded. The whirring cogs in his head slowed a little.

“So, I’d appreciate your support as I try to deal with… well, everything, but I need to do this myself.”

She moved towards him uncertainly. He thought she was going to hold him, but she paused; doubting that he wanted her. Adrien had no such hesitation, he closed the gap between them and embraced her.

“I will always be there for you, Mari. In whatever way you need me to be.”

“Thank you,” She said, voice muffled against his chest.

He felt her shoulders drop and body relaxed into him. She let out a long slow exhalation of breath like she was expelling a great weight from her conscience. He had an almost instinctual urge to protect her, he realised.

“Can I get you something?” He asked. “Tea? Wine?”

She nodded. “Tea would be great actually. I’ve already had a few cocktails and I think I’ll fall asleep if I have anything else.”

“Cocktails?”

“I… I still can’t quite believe it, but I’ve had an extraordinary afternoon.”

He gestured to a stool by the kitchen counter. “Why don’t you tell me about it while I fix some tea? I can rustle up some food too?”

She sat on the stool, Plagg immediately hopping up to settle on her lap. Absentmindedly, she stroked his back, a dazed look on her face as she recalled the day’s events.

“I met Gino Valletta today.”

Adrien stopped midway through filling the kettle and turned back to Marinette, mouth hanging open.

“What?”

“I know, right?” She laughed. “He came to my office, looked at my designs and asked if I’d collaborate with him on a bridal collection.”

He had to put the kettle down. “He did?!”

She nodded, face suddenly serious. There was more.

“He also told me the real reason why I couldn’t find work after Gabriel went under. He blacklisted me.”

Adrien wasn’t shocked. On the list of vile things his father had done, this was barely a 1.1 on the Richter Scale. This was self-serving and petty. Damaging to Marinette, but worked to keep her reliance on Gabriel alive. It was classic Gabriel and as such, unsurprising.

“I’m sorry.”

She shrugged. He didn’t owe her an apology and they both knew it, it was an impulse, a need to attenuate for his father’s behaviour. There was, however, something more tangible and pressing to discuss.

“Are you going to work with Gino?” He asked.

“I…” She chewed her lip. “This is crazy, but my brain keeps telling me I should talk it through with… Well…”

“...Gabriel.” He said for her.

She winced at the name. “Am I beyond repair?”

“No! He’s been your mentor in this business for a long time, and it’s natural you want to seek advice right now.”

Marinette groaned in frustration. At herself. At Gabriel. At the situation in general, he guessed.

“Who else would you speak to when you make a big decision?”

“Alya.”

He picked her phone up from the counter and handed it to her.

“I’ll make tea. You call Alya.”

She smiled for the first time since she’d arrived and the crease between her brows relaxed. As the ringtone sounded out, Adrien returned to filling the kettle.

“Hey, girl! What’s new?” Alya’s voice sing-songed from the phone.

“Combat trousers are coming back into style.”

Alya groaned, Marinette giggled. This was obviously a regular interaction.

“Actually, something quite big and very strange happened today,” Marinette said. “A designer, a big one, saw my design for your wedding dress and he wants to collaborate with me to make a bridal collection.”

“Wow.”

“You’d still be the first one to wear your dress and he said we could name the design after you…”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng! A big designer came and asked you to work with him and you’re worried about how I might take the fact that he loves the design for my wedding dress so much he wants to sell it?! Please! What about you?”

Adrien grinned. As much as Alya scared him and he was worried about her reaction when she discovered that he and Marinette were dating, she was a ferociously loving friend. Her loyalty and care for Marinette were exactly what she needed. A pang of guilt struck him as he considered that she still didn’t know the identity of Marinette’s new love interest.

“Me? It would be a dream come true to work with him, but it feels too easy. He just arrived and offered this to me, I guess I’m a little suspicious.”

“Okay, girl, do you want my advice?”

Marinette’s head bobbed vehemently.

“Ask him to draw up a contract and get Mylene to go over it with her fine-toothed comb. She can make sure you’re not being taken for a fool. If he’s reluctant or gets defensive, you know it was too good to be true. If he’s happy to do it, then it’s a promising sign. Don’t officially agree to anything until you’re sure.”

“Mylene?” Adrien asked, then covered his mouth in surprise. Had he given himself away?

Marinette looked at him. “My friend, she’s a lawyer.”

He nodded his understanding while Alya shrieked.

“Who is that?! Is that the guy?”

“Yes,” Marinette smiled lovingly and gazed across the room at him. Adrien’s heart melted.

“Show me!”

Adrien chose that moment to open the fridge door and rummage for food. Marinette must have flipped the camera for a few seconds because he heard Alya guffaw.

“Are you dating a guy who’s half man, half fridge?”

“Yes, I am,” Marinette laughed.

“Hey, he makes you happy, I’m not going to judge.”

Adrien felt his cheeks warm in spite of the cold air surrounding him as he picked ham, cheese, olives and a jar of chutney from the shelves.

“He does, Al. He makes me very happy.”

“That’s an understatement, Maribug. In the past few weeks, it’s like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. I don’t know whether it’s love or the fact that he rocks your world in the bedroom, but keep hold of him, girl. It’s a good look on you.”

This time, she caught his eye and stared deep into his soul. Her cheeks flushed a little, but she maintained eye contact.

“Thanks, I intend to.”

“Love you, Maribug.”

“Love you, Al.”

“I love _you_ , Marinette,” Adrien said as she ended the call.

Her smile was wide and warm. She slipped off the stool, eliciting a huffy mewl from Plagg and snaked her hands behind his neck. Her soft lips pressed against his, reminding him again how much he’d missed her. Too soon, she pulled away.

“I love you, too, Adrien.”

The glow that radiated from her when she spoke those words spread heat through his body and he pulled her closer and whispered into her ear.

“So, when Alya said I rock your world…”

She took his hand and led him toward the bedroom door, newfound confidence in her sashay. Over her shoulder, she winked at him.

“Come on kitty, this time, let me rock your world.”  
  
☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

“You’re not looking at the art,” she said, watching Nate from the corner of her eye.

It was a quiet Monday morning at the Louvre, just fifteen minutes after opening. Marinette, Nathaniel and Marc liked to come to spend an hour sketching, while the tourists were finishing up their pain au chocolats in their hotels. Perched on a stone step in front of the Winged Victory of Samothrace, Marinette was trying to focus on the shape of her wings, but her friend was distracting her.

“Technically, I am looking at art,” he smirked.

She shook her head. “Does Marc know you flirt like this with everybody?”

His deep laugh reverberated in the cavernous halls.

“I’m not flirting! We’re here to draw beautiful things, right? You stick to your goddess, I’ll stick to mine.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. Back at school, Nate was a quiet, reserved type who only spoke out if something was important to him. Since meeting Marc, he’d come out of his shell and grown in confidence. She was pleased for him, but it didn’t stop her from feeling embarrassed when he commented so openly about her beauty.

On another day, it would have been a reminder about what might have been.

“You’re putting her off, Nathaniel,” Marc chided from the next step up.

“But, look!” Nate held his sketchbook up for Marc to see.

The cooing sounds of approval piqued her curiosity. Sighing, she put down her own notebook.

“Okay, show me.”

He flipped the page and she gasped. They’d only been there for a quarter of an hour, but in that time, Nate had captured her perfectly. The loose tendril of hair that refused to stay in her bun, the wrinkles on her nose as she screwed it up in concentration, the spark of passion in her eyes, she recognised it all, except…

“What’s with the secret smile?” She asked.

“We’ve been wondering the same thing,” Marc perched his chin on Nate’s shoulder. “You have a distinctly blissed out expression today.”

“I bet it has something to do with the dreamy friend of Chloé’s,” Nate grinned.

“Alix is not the most discreet person we know,” Marc chuckled.

_Of course, Alix blabbed! She had been so excited to learn about Marinette’s new relationship with Adrien, she wouldn’t have been able to keep it to herself._

“It’s only because she cares,” Nate added.

“I know.”

Marc and Nate shared a knowing look. One that could only be understood by someone you’d shared your life with for more than half a decade. Marinette was on the outside of it and had no idea what it meant.

“Tell us about him,” Marc prompted.

She felt that smile again. “He’s amazing. Blonde, with these striking green eyes, that I swear have their own light source because they shine. His jaw is cut from stone and his abs are too. But, more than that, he’s sweet and funny. And smart, so intimidatingly clever and imaginative and passionate. And…”

“... And, wearing jeans, a green t-shirt and a blazer I’m sure you picked out for him?” Nate interrupted.

“Wha…”

Nathaniel’s hand turned her head around to where Chloé was climbing the stairs towards the statue Marinette was trying to draw. She was arm in arm with…

“Adrien?!”

He startled before recognising the source of her voice. He eyes crinkled as he grinned at her. She hopped off the stair and reached up to kiss him. Behind her, Marc and Nate made ‘awww’ noises.

“What are you doing here?” He asked.

“We’re drawing,” she waved vaguely to where Nate and Marc were huddled together, grinning madly at Adrien. “These are my very unsubtle friends from art school. What about you?”

“Chlo is in love with one of the waitresses in a cafe here so we’re going to the Denon Wing to eat overpriced breakfast in the hope she notices her.”

“Adrien!” Chloé smacked his arm.

Introductions made, Nate offered to show Adrien what he’d been sketching. While he was distracted, Chloé led her to a quiet corner.

“So, Gabriel got inside your head?”

Marinette’s eyes darted to where Nate was excitedly showing Adrien his sketches.

“Adrien didn’t tell me anything, Marinette. I might have got Sabrina to do my math homework at school, but I can still add two and two.”

She sighed. “I… I don’t know… All I know is that he’s my mentor and I trust him, but there are things that don’t add up. I found out something pretty devastating recently and if it’s true…”

“It is true. Whatever it is, Mari, I’m telling you now, Gabe is capable of it.”

“You don’t know that.”

_She did, though. Chloé was Adrien’s oldest friend, if anyone knew what Gabriel was capable of, it was her._

“Look, Adrien is well-adjusted now, but that has nothing to do with a happy family upbringing. It’s entirely down to Chadd and Kelly’s influence, and Nino. And, more recently, I hope, me. The point is, Gabriel was a tyrant at home and his mother was under his spell. Until Adrien came along, at least. Emilie loved him and Gabriel hated having to share her affections so he decided to add a concubine to the mix.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean Nathalie. She was a promising young designer that he took under her wing. They grew close over the years and he eventually hired her to be his assistant. Then, he stuck his tongue down her throat.”

“Gabriel and Nathalie?”

Chloé nodded. “She’s devoted to him now, but he brainwashed her.”

Marinette was speechless. It made sense and explained many of her unanswered questions about that particular relationship. She knew Chloé had no reason to lie, but it was an uncomfortable truth.

“I saw it for myself, Marinette. He broke her and took advantage of her when she was down. I don’t think Adrien knows what really happened, but I’ve got a good idea.”

“I didn’t know.”

“That’s why I’m telling you. My mother helped Emilie escape in the end. She bought tickets to Italy where an old friend, Gino, helped her lay low for a while before she went to America. The problem was, Gabriel had given Adrien’s passport to Nathalie to hide so she couldn’t take him with her. Instead, she set up a trust fund for him and asked Chadd to keep an eye on him.”

Chloé’s voice was low and serious. She obviously didn’t want Adrien, or anyone, to overhear this conversation. Marinette was reeling.

“Why are you telling me this?” Marinette asked.

“Because I think you need to know. Because I saw your face before you ran out of the bar that night and I knew there was only one snake who could have caused that. Mostly, though, because the Marinette I fell for would never allow someone to tell her she was less than she is, certainly not a slimeball like Gabriel.”

“Thanks, Chloé,” she said weakly. “It’s just, I don’t know if I can escape him.”

“I do. I know because I tried to put you down and you put me in place every time. You’re the toughest person I know.”  
  
“Chloé?” Adrien called to her. “You ready?”

“Yes,” she nodded.

As Marinette watched Chloé and Adrien walk away, she felt Marc and Nate standing behind her. She turned to them, face set in a serious expression.

She was ready, too.

“Guys, there’s something I need to tell you. Can we get a coffee? It’s a long story.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is brought to you by the amazing RoseGardenTwilight who gave me the most amazing motivation to get writing again after my long break. If you haven't read her excellent works yet, what are you waiting for?!


	16. Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Like a small boat  
> On the ocean  
> Sending big waves  
> Into motion  
> Like how a single word  
> Can make a heart open  
> I might only have one match  
> But I can make an explosion."
> 
> Fight Song, Rachel Platten

Mylene removed her reading glasses and set them down, next to the contract.

“This is very generous, Mari.”

“Really? It’s legit?”

“Airtight. And in your favour. Remuneration for the initial collection is your studio rent paid in perpetuity. After you create a bridal collection of five gowns, you are free to walk away. If you wish to collaborate further, you get 25% of the profits from all subsequent designs. Honestly, I’d snap it up if I were you.”

That was all Marinette needed, she signed the bottom of the contract and Mylene co-signed as a witness. She already had a sketchbook full of preliminary designs and was excited to show them to Gino.

In the two weeks since they first met, Gino had become an encouraging mentor. They had met a couple of times for cocktails and he was effusive in his praise for her outfit choices, especially complimenting the way she accessorised. “I can see why you chose to become a stylist, Marinette. You have a wonderful eye.” They were due to meet again that evening and she was looking forward to presenting him with the signed contract.

“Thank you, Mylene. Can you send your invoice to my office?”

Mylene tilted her head in disbelief.

“Marinette. After everything you’ve done for Ivan and me over the years, I think comping this last hour is the least I can do.”

She was ready to protest until the determined look on her friend’s face warned her not to argue.

“Thanks. Are you coming to Nate and Marc’s tomorrow?”

“We are. See you then, Mari.”

With a kiss on the cheek, Mylene gathered up her papers and left to return to her office. Marinette checked her schedule and decided she had time for another coffee before she had to meet her next client.

Luka, it seemed, could add mind-reader to his CV, because at that moment, he appeared at her table with a cappuccino for her. He placed it on the table and nodded at the sketchbook.

“Inspiration is flowing again, I see.”

She nodded. “Overflowing. I have so many ideas I can’t seem to find the time to put them all on paper.”

His lopsided grin was knowing. “I get you. It’s good to see you happy again.”

She watched him walk away and considered it. She was happy. Adrien had reminded her how. This contract in front of her was proof. It would be the first business decision she’d made without Gabriel’s input and she felt lighter for it. If Adrien hadn’t encouraged her to talk to her friends, she might never have taken this step.

Breathing in the rich steam that rose from her coffee cup she smiled and remembered how she felt when she walked through the doors to her office and found him waiting for their first meeting. Lucky Charm, indeed.

☆*☆

“Marinetta! These designs are eccellente!” Gino pointed at one entitled ‘Juleka’. “Tell me about this.”

The gown had a Victorian-style straight line corset and a heavy tulle skirt with a draped bustle, in taffeta, to match the bodice. It was shaded in cream, ivory and oyster.

“It’s steampunk inspired. I wanted to design something that’s romantic, but with an edge to it. It’s not the traditional white and it’s a little avant-garde, but still something one could wear to their wedding in real life.”

She paused, awaiting his response. Her friends had influenced all of the designs and she’d named each one accordingly. ‘Rose’ was a pure white, off-the-shoulder, tea-length number with an ombre pink detail at the hem, ‘Mylene’ was an a-line dress with a floral watercolour design on the bodice, while ‘Ondine’ was a mermaid dress with asymmetric iridescent beading. Each one was personal to her, each one told a story of that person’s best qualities.

“It should definitely make the collection. As should Rose and Alix,” Gino decided.

‘Alix’ was an ivory jumpsuit. Marinette couldn’t imagine her friend ever wearing a dress, even on her wedding day so she designed a simple wide leg jumpsuit with a halterneck, shawl collar and pearl buttons. As a nod to Alix’s horological skill, she added a faux pocket with a chain, like a pocket-watch. It was the least traditional of all the gowns and Marinette hadn’t expected Gino to like it.

“So that’s Alya, Juleka, Rose and Alix,” she listed. “Is there another one in there you’d add, or should I go back to the drawing board?”

He tapped his chin with his forefinger as he considered it. Marinette’s stomach clenched. She’d worked hard on these drawings, but she knew she had more inside her. Either way, she was proud of herself. As he flicked through the sketchbook something caused his eyes to light up.

“This one.”

It was her most extravagant design. Lace over satin with hand-sewn diamante beading. A full skirt and cathedral train emphasised the fairytale nature of the ballgown, as did the sweetheart neckline and long, lace sleeves. It was a dress to be worn at a wedding at a stately home or castle, not a registry office. She envisaged the bride wearing a long antique veil and tiara, arriving at the venue in a horse-drawn carriage. Of course, she called it ‘Chloé’.

“I must return to Italy this week, but we shall catch up soon, yes.”

“Yes, Gino. I’ll work to flesh out these designs and keep you up to date on your progress. Any feedback you have can only help me.”

“I have complete trust in you, Marinetta, ciao.”

One firm handshake later, Gino left the hotel bar. Much to the amusement of the bartender, Marinette couldn’t stop herself from doing a happy dance.

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

  
“So, she’s been going through this for over a year and none of her friends realised something was wrong? Dude, she needs new friends.”

Adrien winced. “Don’t judge them too harshly, Nino. Coercive control is insidious, she didn’t even know it was happening until something opened the floodgates.”

“I don’t know, I think I’d notice.”

“Anyway, she’s going to need all the support she can get to come out the other side so that’s what we’re doing tonight.”

The conversation was making him uncomfortable and Adrien wanted to draw it to a close. He knew Nino meant well, but every disparaging comment about ‘her friends’ was too close to home and it made him want to confess everything. Suddenly, the idea of messing with their friends wasn’t so amusing.

“Well, good luck, man.”

“Thanks.”

His thumb lingered over the end button. Conscience gnawed at his insides.

“Hey, Nino.”

“Yeah, man?”

“You’re a good friend. You and Alya. I just… need you to know.”

“Thanks, dude, You, too.”

The call ended and Adrien continued to stare at his phone, thinking of all the things he should have said. Nino and Alya would be hurt when they found out he and Marinette were hiding this detail from them. Besides, the more people who knew, the more chance they’d hear about it from someone else. He had to speak to Marinette. Soon.

☆*☆

“Ready?” Adrien asked.

“Not really. Better out than in though, right?”

He laughed. “Something like that, yeah.”

He hugged her tightly and felt some of the tension in her shoulders dissipate. He knew this was a big step for Marinette, but it was important to have as much support as possible. He knocked on the apartment door.

“Salut!” Marc greeted them.

Their front door led straight into the kitchen, where Nathaniel was stirring something on the stove. It smelled heavenly and Adrien’s stomach grumbled in response. Marc took their coats and ushered them through to the living room where Marinette’s friends were waiting.

It was his turn to feel trepidatious. He wasn’t at ease around strangers. At least he knew Max a little, the rest were intimidating.

“So, you’re the reason Marinette has been grinning like she’s got a hanger in her mouth?” A pink-haired woman asked.

“He is,” Marinette replied. “This is Adrien. My boyfriend.”

A chorus of cheers ended in a flurry of hugs, handshakes and introductions. Everyone was pleased to meet him and he relaxed a little. He repeated the names back in his head, trying to commit them to memory: Alix, Juleka, Rose, Mylene, Ivan, Max and Kim. As he did so, a knock at the door caused everyone to look confusedly between each other.

“We’re all here, who’s that?” Max’s husband, Kim said.

“Oh,” Marinette blushed. “I should have warned you. I invited Chloé.”

“Are you joking?” Alix screeched.

“She’s changed. I promise.”

“If it all kicks off tonight, it’s on you, Dupain-Cheng,” Kim warned.

“I don’t doubt it.”

Marinette looked to him for support. He was the new guy and wasn’t sure how much clout he carried but it was worth a try.

“She’s my oldest friend,” he admitted. “She is a good person now, although I know she was…”

“...a colossal asshat,” Juleka suggested.

He laughed. “Yeah.”

A collective intake of breath and narrowing of eyes was his indication that Chloé had entered the room. He greeted her with a hug; she would need a friendly face. Marinette embraced her, thanking her quietly for coming before addressing her friends.

“You all remember Chloé, right?”

Seven heads nodded in silence. It could have been awkward if Nathaniel hadn’t chosen that moment to shout from the kitchen.

“Dinner’s ready! Come and serve yourself.”

In the hubbub of crockery, bowls of coq au vin being passed along a line and Ivan pouring wine into every proffered glass, he and Chloé shared a look. Someone else was as overwhelmed as he was and it made him feel less anxious. Marinette handed him a bowl and a fork before fetching one for Chloé.

“Rose,” she called out, “there’s a vegetarian option here for you.”

“Champignons, carottes et haricots beurre au vin,” Nate grinned.

Amid the chaos, Marc smiled at Chloé. “How did it go with the waitress?”

“I know her name now, Ciara. It’s a start.”

“The Chloé I was at school with was a lot bolder than that,” Nate added.

“The Chloé you were at school with was so far in the closet, she was regularly hanging out with fauns.”

Rose giggled at that and sat on the cushion next to her. Before he knew it, they were chatting animatedly about their old teachers. Max nodded to a space next to him and Kim, gesturing to Adrien to sit.

“I’m glad you two got your act together,” Kim grinned. “Although I do enjoy a clumsinette story, she’s happier than I’ve seen her in years.”

“Oh, good. I’m glad our awkwardness is amusing.”

Max poked a piece of chicken, avoiding Adrien’s gaze. Kim just chuckled to himself.

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

Dinner plates lay abandoned on table tops and wine glasses littered the floor, forgotten about since Marinette began explaining the truth about her relationship with Gabriel and everything that had happened since his arrest. Astonished faces gazed back at her as she tried to include all the details. Occasionally, Adrien or Chloé would interject or prompt her, but they mostly let her tell her story. It was cathartic.

When she was done, there was a beat of silence before the questions started flying.

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“How could you let this happen?”

“Didn’t you trust us enough?”

“Is this why you stopped talking to us for a while?”

Marinette stuttered, unsure how to answer. A strong hand covered hers and squeezed. She wasn’t alone.

“I guess now is a good time to tell you my full name,” Adrien said. “I’m Adrien Agreste. Gabriel is my father.”

Another storm of questions hit, but Adrien put a hand up and the noise ceased. He continued.

“His levels of control are Machiavellian, Marinette didn’t even know he was in her head until it was too late. I understand, that’s what my childhood was. It’s why I left—I’ve been emancipated from him since I was sixteen years old. He’s not a good person.”

Chloé snorted. “He’s a snake. He specialises in manipulation and his prey is usually talented young, female, designers who regard him as a mentor. Marinette isn’t the first.”

“She’s going to be the last, though, right?” Kim asked, stony-faced.

“Yeah,” Alix agreed. “How do we hit him where it hurts?”

“I’ve already made some investigations in how to get his hidden money seized,” Adrien admitted.

“I was suggesting we kick him in the balls, but sure, let’s start with his bank account.”

She laughed. This was why she should have told her friends a long time ago, should have known they’d want to help and (in Alix’s case) enact revenge. Alya would have reacted in the same way. Hell, Alya would have fought her way past the prison guards and beaten the smug look off Gabriel’s face.

 _Alya_.

She had to tell her best friend everything.


	17. Tell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Holy water cannot help you down  
> Hours and armies couldn't keep me out  
> I don't want your money  
> I don't want your crowd  
> See I have to burn  
> Your kingdom down”
> 
> Seven Devils, Florence + the Machine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you ever look at what you've written and hate every single word? Yeah, that's how I've been feeling for a while now. While I deal with anxiety!brain, I'm forever grateful to my excellent discord peeps for encouraging me, and especially to KitKatCatFangirl and TOG84 for beta-ing this chapter so I could share it with you.

“Babe, I think I found us an apartment super close to work.”

Nino removed his headphones and looked up from his laptop, blinking away the grittiness that comes from staring at the screen too long. He’d been trying to complete his tracklist for the weekend’s gig, but he couldn’t get the pacing right. A break was exactly what he needed right now.

“Yeah?”

She tossed the information on the table and he skimmed over it, knowing Alya would fill in the important details.

“It’s in our budget, One bedroom, in unit laundry, 700 square foot, wooden floors. Utilities are included and there’s a gym in the building. It’s everything we want.”

He sensed a pause. “But?”

She winced. “There’s a four-week gap between the end of this lease and the start of the new one.”

That wasn’t the worst problem in the world. Nino was sure they could stay with friends for the duration. He could even stretch to a hotel for a few weeks. Although, there was another option…

“Why don’t we go back to Paris while we wait? Get married?”

For once, Alya was speechless. Nino took advantage of that to argue his case.

“We want to marry at home, right? You haven’t taken a holiday since we got here so I know you can get the time off and I don’t have a major gig in that time either. When are we going to get a chance like this again?”

“We’d have to put our stuff into storage,” she finally said.

“I can arrange that.”

“And we’ll have to call our families and tell them the news.”

Nino smiled, nodding.

“What if Marinette can’t get the dress finished in time?”

He laughed. “Babe, Marinette could make a wedding dress overnight if she needed to. For you? She’ll get it done.”

“But, she’s signed that contract with Gino Valletta. She’s going to be busy.”

“Al…”

She let out a delighted chuckle. “Okay! Let’s go back to Paris! Let’s get married!”

Nino thought he’d be more excited by the prospect of going home, until he realised he already  _ was _ home. Wherever Alya was, was home for him. The anticipation of seeing their friends and family was calling him back to Paris, but he wasn’t homesick.

When TV-5 offered Alya the job as Washington correspondent, he wasn’t sure if he would be able to launch his career in America. He only tried because the one thing he did know was that he wanted to spend his life with her. His high school girlfriend, the love of his life. Their hard work and sacrifice had paid off and now both of them had careers they were passionate about.

Then, Marinette lost her job at Gabriel. They almost packed up and returned to Paris, until she persuaded them to stay. For months, he and Alya questioned that decision. Now, though, she seemed happy with her new guy and her career was kickstarting thanks to Gino Valletta. They’d made the right choice.

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards him. She landed on his lap with a delighted squeal and he captured her lips with his own. Alya pulled away with a happy hum. Her smile was wide and her eyes glittered.

“Who should we call first, Marinette or Adrien?”

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

Adrien pushed the door open with his back, being careful not to disturb the contents of the tray. Casting an eye over his living area, he grinned. A cosy throw and matching cushions adorned the sofa and armchair and a potted plant was flourishing by the window. Even Plagg’s cat bed now coordinated with the room. Marinette’s little touches made his flat feel like home.

“I hope you’re hungry,” he said.

“I  _ did _ skip dinner…”

Adrien’s cheeks warmed at the memory. “Yeah, sorry about that. You can’t turn up all sexy and inspired and expect me to be restrained.”

She giggled. “Well, if you answer the door looking tousled and topless, I don’t want you to be restrained.”

He placed the tray on the middle of the bed and joined her where she was snuggled in amongst the pillows, wearing one of his t-shirts. She kissed him softly before cuddling into him, her eyes falling closed for a moment. He felt her weight on him, warm and relaxed. She sighed contentedly and it turned into a yawn.

“Tired?” He asked.

“I didn’t sleep well last night.”

Her nightmares were becoming less regular, but her sleep was still disturbed. She often woke herself up shouting or crying. After she admitted everything to him, he noticed an improvement, and since talking to her friends, it had started to get even better. Adrien was hopeful that finally telling Alya and Nino would be the last hurdle towards making a full recovery. If only Alya, Nino and Marinette’s schedules would allow them to all speak at once.

Things were improving, he knew. Adrien was pleased to see that she didn’t get lost in her thoughts so easily lately; the inner voices were quietening down. Now that her friends knew what she’d gone through, they were actively (and in Alix’s case, aggressively) ensuring she talked about her experiences and worked towards breaking through her reliance on Gabriel’s approval. These days, if he didn’t hear from her for a day, it was because she was so engrossed in designing for her collaboration that she lost track of time, not because she was withdrawing into herself.

He speared a chunk of mango on a fork and guided it into her mouth.

“We’ll go to bed soon.”

“I hate to break it to you, but we’re  _ in _ bed,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, okay. We’ll get some sleep soon.”

She snuggled into his side and accepted another piece of fruit. Adrien felt light, carefree. With Marinette by his side, in his bed, he could forget the chaos of the day and focus on the moment. At times like these, there was just the two of them in the world and nobody else.

He was only faintly aware of her taking the fork from his hand and moving the tray onto the dresser. His contemplation was only broken by her climbing into his lap and kissing him, fingers raking through his hair.

“What was that for?” He asked breathlessly.

“To thank you for your patience. I know I’ve not been the easiest person to love.”

He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and pressed his forehead to hers, overwhelmed by a rush of feelings.

“I know I said we’d sleep soon, but…”

“I’m suddenly wide awake.”

She kissed a trail across his jaw. As her teeth tugged on his earlobe, a phone started to ring and vibrate across the bedside table. The frustrated growl she emitted fogged his mind even more. He picked up the offending item.

“It’s Nino.”

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

“Nino! How are you?”

“We’re getting married!” Alya shouted.

“Congratulations! I knew that.”

“No, we’re coming back to Paris for a month, in three weeks time and we’re going to book the town hall. We’re actually getting married.”

“Ah! That’s amazing! I can’t wait.”

Nino’s eyes darted from the name in the corner of the screen and the somewhat nervous face in the centre. He hit the number to call his friend, Alya didn’t know who to expect on the other end of the line. Nino did, and it wasn’t Adrien. He nudged Alya and tapped on the name, Marinette…

“Adrien?” Alya asked. “Did we call the wrong number or did you change your name?”

“Wha- oh… Shit.”

“Adrien Algernon Agreste. Why are you answering my friend Marinette’s phone? In your bedroom?”

“First of all, that’s not my middle name. Second, I’m in my bedroom because I live here…”

“And, C. Because Marinette is also in his bedroom and we got our phones mixed up,” Marinette’s flushed face appeared in the frame.

“All I know is that the name Nino appeared on a phone screen and I answered it. After that, everything is a blur,” Adrien admitted, face the colour of beetroot.

Alya screamed.

Marinette winced.

“What’s happening? Marinette, what happened to the cute client?”

Marinette pressed her lips together and frowned. She was searching for the right words.

“Oh my god, is  _ Adrien _ the cute client?!”

Marinette nodded. “We didn’t realise until we’d been dating for a while that we had you guys in common. When we did… We wanted to tell you in person. Sorry.”

“Girl! Don’t be sorry! Babe, our matchmaking powers are so strong that we got these two together just by thinking they’d be compatible.”

Nino made an acknowledging noise, but something was niggling. He and Adrien never used Marinette’s name until recently. Perhaps that was what tipped him off? It was the subject matter in that particular conversation that bothered him.

“So, Marinette is the personal shopper?” Nino said.

“Yeah,” Adrien smiled.

“Dude!” He exclaimed

“What?!”

“I told you she’s like a sister to me!”

“I didn’t know you were talking about Mari!” Adrien’s ears turned red and his eyes were wide with indignance.

“Why? What’s that about?” Marinette asked.

Adrien explained. “Oh, he said I wasn’t allowed to sleep with you on the first date.”

“Ouch!!” Nino cried as Alya punched him in the arm.

“She’s a grown up! She can sleep with whoever she wants to.”

“Yeah!” Marinette agreed, punching Adrien in the arm.

“What did I do?!” Adrien objected.

“Nothing, but I can’t hit Nino.”

“Can we all stop beating each other up long enough to get excited about the fact that our friends are actually getting married?” Adrien said.

Marinette clapped her hands and bounced on the spot. “Yes! When do you arrive? I need to fit your dress, Al. And Nino, what are you going to wear?”

“Mari can help you find a dinner suit,” Adrien grinned and Marinette appeared to grow in his reflected pride.

“We need to book flights, but, roughly three weeks from today.”

“I’ll clear my schedule as much as I can,” Marinette said.

“Same. Tell us what we can do for you before you get here.”

Alya squeezed him around the waist and started describing her ideas for their wedding, Marinette occasionally interjecting with a suggestion. Something was making him uneasy, though.

“Do you have a pen and paper, kitty? I want to write this down,” Marinette asked Adrien.

“Kitty? I’m dead. You guys are too cute.”

“You’re not mad we didn’t tell you? I’ve been trying to get you both together for a few weeks to talk to you, but the timezones were against me.”

“Maribug, calm down!” Alya laughed. “I’m happy for you. I do, however, expect ALL the details when I get back to Paris.”

“Of course.”

Adrien returned with a notepad and pen, settling back on the bed, just behind Marinette. He sat with his legs around her in a distinctly protective stance. That was when the pieces slotted together for Nino.

“Wait, dude, she can’t be the girl you told me about. You said she was being groomed by Gabriel, and that’s not our Mari.”

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

Her pen fell from her grip as her hands shot to her face.  _ Groomed. _ That was the word Adrien had been tiptoeing around for weeks, one that Chloé obliquely suggested in her account of Nathalie’s experience. A word more readily associated with predatory men, seeking to exploit a young, naive prey… A word that perfectly described what Gabriel was doing to her.

“Oh, god. He was grooming me. What was he planning? Adrien?”

Strong arms surrounded her and she was lifted onto his lap. He held her tightly and stroked her hair, rocking gently to calm her. On the screen, her two best friends stared out, their faces a mixture of love and concern.

“I don’t know, Princess, but I intend to find out, he whispered. “And I plan to make him pay for it.”

“And I’ll be right behind you, Sunshine,” Alya added stonily.

Nino's voice had an uncustomary hard edge, fury boiled beneath a calm exterior.

“Join the queue.”


	18. Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It's time for me to take it  
> I'm the boss right now  
> Not gonna fake it  
> Not when you go down  
> 'Cause this is my game  
> And you better come to play"
> 
> Confident, Demi Lovato

She didn’t hear him arrive, she was too engrossed in her work. Until he put his hand on her shoulder, she didn’t even know he was there. She jumped and clutched her chest in fright.

“Babe,” he frowned at the whiteboard on her office wall. “This looks like the mind of a crazy person. What are you doing?”

The board was, admittedly, getting messy. News articles, photos and scribbled notes on post-its littered the majority of the space, a red string connecting the main items together into a timeline. It did look chaotic.

“I refuse to believe Marinette was the first employee to be groomed like this by Gabriel, if I want to take him down, I need concrete proof.”

“Take him down? He’s in prison.”

“He got five years for False Accounting and seven for Abuse of Position. He’s serving the sentences concurrently, Nino.”

“I understood maybe half what you just said.”

Alya pinched the bridge of her nose. She knew he wasn’t being deliberately obtuse, but she didn't feel patient enough to explain. Time was running out, they were only going to be in Paris for a few weeks and she needed to be ready.

“He’s already been in prison for two years. In two more, he could get probation and be out. Marinette’s not safe from him for long. And what about his next victim?” She asked, feeling her pulse start to race.

“Babe. Take a breath. Adrien said Mari’s got support and she’s getting him out her brain. Two years is a long time, she’ll be strong enough.”

He grabbed her hands, closing them in his, imploring her with concern in his eyes.

“No! I have to do something. I should have been there for her, I have to be there for her. I… I should have seen the signs, not Adrien.”

Tears fell now. The guilt and regret that she’d been bottling up flowed out. She _should_ have been there for Marinette, should have noticed that she was struggling. Instead, she was too focussed on herself and her career to see that her best friend was in pain. Alya let Gabriel torture her for years, all because she wasn’t paying enough attention.

Warm arms surrounded her and she buried her face in his chest, sobbing bitterly. He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head.

“I know, I feel bad too. We can’t dwell on it, though, babe. We can’t change the past, only be there, be better for Marinette in the future. It’s a good thing that she found Adrien, he knows what it’s like to have Gabe in his head, he can help her.”

“I want to help her. I should have…”

Nino tilted her head towards his and she saw the red rim around his eyes and the way his bottom lip trembled.

“Al, please. I’m scared you’re going to let this eat you up. Can we focus on the positive? Our wedding, seeing our family and friends? This is meant to be a happy time.”

“The wedding! Mylene asked us to send her those documents! I forgot!”

Nino’s soft smile calmed her panic before it crested.

“I did it. I want to marry you, babe, I’m not going to let paperwork stop me.”

She took a deep breath, letting it flow slowly out past her lips, calming her. “I’m sorry.”

“I know. And I get that you’re angry at Gabriel, but don’t let it eat you up. We’ll find a way to deal with him, I promise.”

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

The prison was unlike anywhere Adrien had been before—somehow, both sterile and grotty at the same time. The squeak from his shoes on the linoleum floors reverberated off stone walls, all painted that greyish institutional beige. He remembered reading that the shade was meant to be calming, but he felt anything other than that right now.

He walked into the visitors' room and was directed to a numbered table. Its laminated surface was starting to peel at the edges and the rubberised trim felt sticky when he brushed against it. Adrien suspected that once his father joined him, the urge to scrub himself clean would multiply. Around him, other visitors sat calmly, waiting to see loved ones, some even looked excited. Adrien felt sick.

When Gabriel entered the room, dressed in ill-fitting jeans and a plain blue t-shirt, he wanted to run away. He was here for Marinette, though, here to show Gabriel that he couldn’t get to her anymore. Even in prison-issue clothes, he looked haughty and stood tall.

The chair scraped on the ground as he arranged himself opposite his son, regarding him with the same derisory expression he used on subordinates. A look he no doubt practised on cellmates and wardens alike in this place. It seemed like there was nothing that would bring him down to the same level as mere mortals, but Adrien was there to try.

“Adrien. Of all the people whose name I expected to see in the visitor log, yours was far down the list.”

“Honestly, I never expected to be here,” he replied, face stony. “Unfortunately, you had to go and spoil that.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” A thin-lipped smile suggested otherwise.

“I’m here to let you know that your days of gaslighting Marinette are over. She’s cutting you off.”

That patronising laugh –contemptuous and proud– a sound Adrien had tried hard to forget.

“If that were true, she’d be here herself to tell me so.”

“She doesn’t want to see you. She’s done with you.”

Gabriel arched a single eyebrow. Adrien dearly wanted to reach across the table and wipe the smug look from his face, but he knew his father was a physically imposing man, in addition to his formidable presence. He had to stay calm. Gabriel fed on weakness.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng is not, nor shall she ever be, ‘done with’ me.” He added the air-quotes and Adrien’s hands balled into fists.

“Really? She found out that you blacklisted her.”

A flicker of doubt crossed his features. “You can’t prove that was me.”

Adrien finally had the upper hand and he was going to take advantage.

“Oh, that’s easy to prove. A number of designers have verified it, with no incentive other than finally telling the truth. Something you should try, Gabriel. I’m told it can set you free.”

“How _dare_ you.”

“You seem to be mistaking me for the frightened sixteen-year-old that left your home. A decade has passed and I’m stronger, wiser and unafraid of you.”

“You’re just like your mother,” Gabriel spat.

“Thank you. The alternative would be to take after you and I definitely don’t want that.”

“She left you, or have you forgotten? She ran away and left you behind.”

Adrien leaned back in his chair, conscious of keeping his body language open. If he wanted to show Gabriel that he wasn’t threatened by him, it wouldn’t help if he became defensive.

He smiled. “Mum left, yes. She did what she had to do and she provided for me. I understand why she did it; the need to be far from you is overwhelming. Marinette certainly thinks so.”

“She’s nothing without me.”

Laughter bubbled up in Adrien’s throat. Bitter, angry, and genuinely amused.

“You honestly believe that, don’t you? I hate to burst your bubble, Gabriel, Marinette is happy without you. She has a new mentor now, a better one.”

“Who?”

“Does it matter? It’s not you. She already has a bridal collection in the works, with her name on it. Within weeks of turning her back on you, good things happened.”

That silenced Gabriel so Adrien continued.

“Marinette is not Nathalie, or mother. She is strong, independent, talented and capable of so much more than you ever gave her credit for. You might have been in her head all this time, but I’m here to give you your eviction notice. She doesn’t need you anymore.”

The normally stoic face of Gabriel Agreste had turned grey and clammy. He was unused to things not going his way. Which, Adrien mused, was ironic, given his current living arrangement.

“Why are you here?”

“I wanted to see the look on your face when you realised Marinette’s not yours to control. I’ve got to say, it’s pretty satisfying.”

“You’re weak,” Gabriel scoffed contemptuously.

“Is that all you’ve got?”

Silence.

“Oh, one more thing. I ordered the money you paid to the Marais Artist’s Studio Community to be returned to you and tipped off the police to your ‘ring-fenced’ account. Captaine Laura Jetaieu of the Fraud Squad was _very_ interested to hear about that.” He saw his father’s eye twitch. “There’s no point in trying to hide the evidence, I went to the police weeks ago.”

Gabriel growled. “You’ve screwed your precious girlfriend in the process. She can’t afford to stay in her atelier now.”

“No. I’ve paid Marinette’s debt to MASC. Going forward, her rent will be paid by Gino Valletta until she can afford it herself.”

“You think you’re her saviour? You have no idea what you’ve done. She can’t function without me.”

Adrien groaned in frustration. “How many times do I have to tell you this? She. Doesn’t. Need. You.”

A sneer twisted his face. “You think she needs _you_? Please! If I hadn’t been arrested when I was, she’d have been in my bed, not yours. You’re nothing but a poor substitute for what she might have had.”

Only a few years ago, Gabriel’s mind games would have worked. He could have crushed him with his words. Not now. Now, it was pitiful.

“I don’t know what’s more pathetic, your delusion or your desperation. Honestly, if I were you, I’d be more worried about how Nathalie’s going to react when she finds out she’s the focus of a police investigation. I wonder how loyal she’ll be when she’s facing jail time for aiding and abetting a washed-up hasbeen.”

Adrien pushed his chair away from the table and stood up, motioning to the guard that he wished to leave. He was done.

Almost.

“Oh, I know you’re itching to call Nathalie,” Adrien shot over his shoulder. “But, I let the authorities know about Captaine Jetaieu’s investigation so they’ve suspended your telephone privileges. I’m sure they’ll let you contact your lawyer, if you ask nicely. You’re going to need his services.”

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

She pushed a stubborn strand of hair from her eyes and sighed, a tension headache was creeping through her skull. Looking at the time, she noted that she’d been working for several hours without a break; something that happened a lot recently. Deciding to get some fresh air and, ideally, some coffee, she slipped on her coat and grabbed her purse and keys. For the hundredth time that day, she checked her phone, hoping for news from the prison visit, trying to convince herself that no news was good news.

When she opened her front door, she was met by a serious-faced woman in a dark pant-suit and turtleneck.

“Nathalie Sancoeur?”

A nod.

“I am arresting you on suspicion of Asset Misappropriation, and Aiding and Abetting Embezzlement….” The plain-clothed officer flashed her badge.

Nathalie blinked, shell-shocked as the woman continued. She didn’t hear her, only one thought echoed in her mind.

_Gabriel promised he’d protect me._


	19. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When I think of home, I think of a place where  
> There's love overflowing  
> I wish I was home, I wish I was back there  
> With the things I've been knowing”
> 
> Home, Diana Ross

Marinette was not a morning person. This wasn’t any great secret, Adrien knew, but the five o’clock start had amplified the effect. Only her excitement at seeing Alya and Nino and the promise of a bucket-sized cup of airport coffee were enough to coax her into the cold winter air and onto the train. Aside from the grumbling, he didn’t mind much. She just cuddled into him as they walked, commenting on how dark early mornings were. On the train, she rested her head on his shoulder and let him stroke her hair, occasionally nodding off, her head sliding off his arm for a moment before she woke and repositioned herself.

Now, over-caffeinated and impatient, she was pacing nervously in the arrivals hall of Charles de Gaulle Airport, and Adrien wondered if he should have left her in bed.

“Mari, stop. You’re making me dizzy,” he complained. “The app says their luggage is on the carousel, they’ll be here any moment.”

She smirked, bobbing a little on the spot. “You just want me to hold the banner.”

The banner was bigger than her and garishly decorated in orange and green. She had appliqued figures that bore a striking likeness to their friends, bookending the words ALYA & NINO in bold letters. Adrien  _ did  _ feel self-conscious holding it.

“No, I want you to help me hold it. It’s a two person job.”

She raised an eyebrow and placed one hand on her hip, striking a defiant pose. That’s when it struck him.

_ You’re back. _

For weeks, possibly months, she’d been in disguise—camouflaging herself to prevent others from seeing what was going on inside of her. Red clothing (her power colour), bold makeup and towering heels had been her costume as she impersonated someone more confident, more self-assured. Today, she was dressed in a pink wrap dress decorated with cherry blossoms. Over that was a long, cream scarf wrapped several times around her. The look was finished with a deep pink duster coat and tan knee-high boots Her hair was pulled loosely into a side braid and she wore only mascara and lip gloss. She looked soft, unassuming. It was pure Marinette and his heart fluttered at the sight.

“You’re making a weird face, Adrien. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. The opposite, actually.”

He held his hand out to her and she took it.  Pulling her towards him, he placed her hand on one corner of the banner and took the other side.

“Did you just trick me?” Marinette gasped, faking shock.

“Maybe,” he said coyly. “You can fight me on it later, though, I see a red baseball cap coming towards us.”

Adrien pointed through the line of glass doors that separated them from the travel-weary people dragging heavy suitcases out of the customs area. Nino and Alya were in the crowd, eyes scanning the waiting area for their friends.

Marinette clutched the banner and bounced up and down, squealing in delight. As soon as Alya was clear of the double doors, she broke into a run and swept Marinette off her feet in a hug. Nino, now pulling two suitcases behind him approached more sedately. The pair shared a one-handed hug.

“Nice banner,” Nino said, grinning.

“Thanks, it’s all Mari’s handiwork, not mine,” Adrien laughed as the girls continued to scream in excitement. "Good flight?”

“Long,” Nino dragged his hand down his face. “But worth it.”

Adrien took one of the suitcases from Nino and caught Marinette and Alya’s attention, pointing towards the exit. As they walked, the two women spoke animatedly about wedding plans. Adrien heard snippets in amongst excited shrieking—Marinette had scheduled a dress fitting for Alya with Gino and was planning a trip to Le Chasseur with Nino for a suit fitting.

Lucky Charm wasn’t taking any new clients until Marinette had finished her bridal collection for Gino. Adrien suspected that Alya and Nino’s return had influenced her decision. She wanted to be free to assist them as much as possible and by only taking appointments from existing clients, she was able to manage her time more easily. Adrien had promised her he’d be strict with himself about office hours so he could be available, too.

“What are your plans for today?” Adrien asked.

Nino puffed out his cheeks. “We need to drop these off at Alya’s parents’ place, then get to the town hall.”

“Didn’t Mylene sort that all out for you?”

“She set it all in motion, but we still need to present ourselves for the interviews. Fortunately, we have a friend who’s tight with the Mayor in our parents’ arrondissement so our application is being fast-tracked.”

Adrien chuckled. Apparently, Alya had dug her heels in when she found out that Chloé had offered to vouch for the pair to her father so that the bans could be posted before they arrived in the country. Nino had to work hard to convince her that being in Chloé’s debt was preferable to having to wait four weeks for the licence once they arrived in Paris. Only Chloé’s part in Marinette’s recent revelations and recovery had satisfied Alya that she could be trusted.

“Anyway,” Nino cleared his throat uncomfortably, his features darkening. “How is, uh,  _ everything _ ?”

“Getting better. She’s getting stronger, but it’s going to be a long road.”

“How did Tom and Sabine take it?”

“Like you’d expect,” Adrien shrugged.

Telling her parents had been hard. The pain on their faces as their daughter described the mental torture she had endured in secret almost broke his heart. He knew she was giving them the abridged version and shuddered to think how difficult the full story would have been to stomach. For a moment, he’d worried that they might blame him for bringing this to the surface, or consider his father’s sins to be his responsibility. Of course, that was never the case; Tom and Sabine weren’t petty or punitive. Their reaction was of total acceptance, love and lack of judgement. A tiny pang of jealousy tugged his conscience;  _ this _ was how parents were meant to be. Unconditionally loving.

“And Nathalie? Any news?”

“Only what Kim told me. He’s got an old colleague on the Fraud Squad who’s updating him with what he can. She’s cooperating, that’s the gist of it right now.”

“Is she going to help bury that bastard? Sorry…”

“Don’t apologise, he’s that and more. I had myself legally disassociated from him, remember?”

Even now, Adrien often had to explain that he and Gabriel were more than estranged, but he never expected to have to remind Nino. This situation was confusing things, blurring lines. He didn’t blame Nino for forgetting, but it was hard to take.

“Sorry, dude. I’m still getting my head around this, you know?”

“I know.”

Marinette caught his eye and winked, her face shone with excitement. She had a contagious enthusiasm and he felt his own anticipation for the wedding spark inside him. He was delighted for Nino and Alya and knowing that he and Marinette would be part of the day made him even happier.

“Have you two thought about having a Fiançailles party?” Adrien asked, now that he had everybody’s attention. “If you don’t have plans, we’d love to organise one for you.”

Alya looked sceptical and threw a look at Nino that Adrien couldn’t quite decipher. When she spoke, she addressed Marinette.

“I don’t want to give you too much to do.”

Marinette smiled. “It’s not too much, Al. You didn’t get the chance to have an engagement party before you left and we want to celebrate with you.”

Alya deliberated while Nino nodded expectantly.

“Okay, but keep it low key, we don’t want too much of a fuss,” she finally agreed.

“It might be too late for that,” Adrien laughed. “She’s been planning since you told us you were coming to Paris.”

Alya smiled thinly at him until Marinette began talking to her about her sisters’ dresses. Adrien turned to Nino and saw the concern on his face.

“Am I imagining it, or is Alya not speaking to me?” He said, quietly.

Nino’s face confirmed his suspicions before he could say anything. “Um, I guess? She’s hurt that Mar didn’t talk to her about the whole Gabriel thing but told you and Chloé after a matter of weeks.”

“It wasn’t like that, though. I was just there at the right time.”

“And Alya was in America. Not there. At any time. She’s mad at herself but blaming you.”

“Should I talk to her?”

Nino shook his head. “Just give her a few days to feel useful again. Once she and Marinette have a heart-to-heart, I’m sure she’ll come round.”

Adrien didn’t feel as hopeful.

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

She and Adrien grabbed a coffee while Alya and Nino went into the town hall. Marinette was feeling the effects of her early start and was astonished that they were still conscious after their night flight. Counting out the time difference, she worked out that it was breakfast time for their body clocks and decided to get takeout coffees and pastries for them when they left.

“How is it?” Adrien asked.

“The coffee?”

“Having Alya back.”

“Oh,” she giggled. “It’s surreal, but in a good way. It feels like she’s never been away, but also like everything is different since I last saw her.”

Everything  _ was _ different. Since they left France, Alya and Nino both had thriving careers in the USA and, now, they were getting married. Marinette had been to hell and back with Gabriel, started a successful business, fallen in love, befriended her childhood bully, and signed a significant contract with one of her design-idols. Yet, the moment Alya stepped out of the arrivals area, everything felt like it always had.

“I understand. It’s the same with Nino.”

She paused, chewing her lip. There was something else. Debating whether to tell him, she scolded herself.  _ No more secrets _ .

“And… I’m nervous about her seeing her dress, what if she hates it?”

He set his cup carefully into its saucer and placed his hands on the table, either side of his macchiato.  It was clear he had something important to say.

“Marinette, please take this in the spirit it’s intended, but, are you crazy? Alya is going to love the dress, you designed it for her!”

She smiled, a warmth in her chest that had less to do with the coffee and more to do with the sweet man who was looking at her with fierce admiration. Some days, she saw herself reflected in his eyes and she liked that woman. Strong, independent, creative, deserving of love. She wanted to be that version of Marinette, not the imposter who’d been wearing her clothes these past months.

She’d meant it when she said she didn’t want him to fix her. If he did, she’d feel like she owed him something, would always doubt the depths of her love for him. And yet, he had saved her anyway. His patience and unending support had been exactly what she needed.

“You’re making a weird face, Princess. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she insisted. “The opposite, actually.”

He laughed and held one hand out to her. She took it and squeezed his. He gaze wandered to the imposing building across the street and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Do you ever wonder if we’ll ever make it into a place like that?” He nodded towards the town hall.

“If we’re both not in there next month, Alya will carry out all her most dramatic death threats.”

Adrien shook his head. “That’s not what I mean. Do you ever..?”

She placed her other hand over his. “Adrien! I’m kidding. It has crossed my mind, marrying you.”

“And?”

“And, it’s one of my happier daydreams.”

His eyes seemed to shine brighter at that, his smile grew wider. “That wasn’t a proposal, by the way.”

“I fully expect to be swept off my feet when you do ask.”

“ _ If _ I ask,” he said and winked. “I’m hardly traditional, I don’t mind if _ you  _ give me a ring.”

She couldn’t conceal the smirk, or the spark of an idea as it began to form in her mind.

“If  _ I _ ask, I warn you, I’ll sweep you so far off your feet, you’ll probably land on top of the Eiffel Tower.”

He paused, coffee cup halfway to his lips. Seeming to change his mind, he put it back down and cleared his throat.

“This isn’t a proposal. Well, not of marriage at least. But… You’ve been spending time at my place and when you’re there, it feels like home.”

Marinette’s breath hitched. She didn’t want to second guess, but was he..?

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, will you make me the happiest man on earth and move in with me?”

Her cheeks ached as she tried to contain her grin. The terrified look on his face as he’d asked was too adorable and she wanted to dive across the table and hug him. If it wasn’t for the hot coffee, she would have done it. Instead, she nodded enthusiastically.

“Adrien Agreste, of course I’ll move in with you! Is there room for my ladybug, too?”

“As long as Plagg doesn’t mind sharing his basket, I’m sure we’ll find space.”


	20. Alya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I've been grinding so long, been trying this shit for years  
> and I got nothing to show, just climbing this rope right here  
> and if there's a man upstairs, he kept bringing me rain  
> but I've been sending up prayers and something's changed  
> I think I finally found my hallelujah  
> I've been waiting for this moment all my life  
> Now all my dreams are coming true, yeah  
> I've been waiting for this moment”
> 
> It’s Good to be Alive, Andy Grammer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, remember me? XD
> 
> Life got crazy, but I'm back! I really appreciate all the wonderful comments and kudos and I want to reply to all of you. Please be patient, I will get there!

Alya met Marinette outside her flat. Inside was a mess of boxes and trash bags. Adrien’s apartment was large, but wardrobe space was limited and she needed to downsize her massive collection of clothing before she handed her keys back to the landlord. Alya handed her a large coffee cup before the door clicked shut behind her. The jet lag must have kicked in, she looked exhausted.

“Hey girl, what’s new?”

“Wallpaper florals are big for Fall/Winter,” Marinette said before taking a grateful swig of her latte. Alya did not look amused.

“I asked you that every day. Why did you never tell me?”

Marinette swallowed heavily. She knew they’d have this conversation eventually, she just wasn’t ready for it this morning. Another mouthful of coffee gave her thinking time.

“I… It wasn’t new… What was happening with Gabriel, it wasn’t news, it had been happening for years.”

“You still should have told me. How was I meant to help you if you didn’t tell me what was wrong?”

“I didn’t realise it  _ was  _ wrong, Al. It wasn’t until I got perspective that I saw how messed up things were.”

“Perspective that I couldn’t give you, but Adrien and Chloé could?!” Alya spat the names out.

Marinette winced. “When we met, Chloé had been bullying me for years, I was a broken person.  _ You _ defended me,  _ you _ made me brave. So long as you were beside me, I could do anything. Since the age of fourteen, my self-esteem has been tied to you. Then, you went away and I latched onto someone else who could make me feel worthwhile. Just, that time, he wasn’t as noble as you. As messed up as it sounds, Adrien and Chloé were the only two people who could show me I was wrong, because they were the only two people who had the perspective on Gabriel I needed to hear.”

Alya stared, glassy-eyed. Marinette continued.

“You and Nino are the best friends anyone could ask for and I knew that if I told you what was going on, you’d fly back here to help me. I couldn’t do that to you, you have good lives in America. Besides, if I was ever going to break free from Gabriel, I had to first break the cycle of attaching my self-worth to another person. I had to learn to have faith in myself.”

“I’m sorry,” tears poured down Alya’s face. “I just wanted to help.”

Marinette placed her hand firmly on Alya’s shoulder. “You did. You were my friend when everyone else was too scared to defy Chloé. You are my biggest cheerleader, my confidante and the closest thing to a sister I’ve ever known. This…  _ thing _ ... It was something outside of your control and that’s not your fault, okay?”

Alya nodded, sniffing. Marinette pulled her into a hug and held her tightly until she felt the sobs subside.  She fished in her pocket for a paper tissue and handed it to Alya, smiling weakly.

“Thanks.”

“I don’t know about you, but I need more caffeine, “ Marinette laughed, wiping her own face. She hadn’t noticed the tears as they fell.

“Definitely, the time difference is kicking my ass.”

La Sarcelle was only a short walk and, of course, Luka was behind the counter. He leaned across the polished steel and faux wood to kiss Marinette in greeting.

“Do you live here?” She teased him.

“Some days, it feels that way,” he grinned and winked. “Hey, Alya, Mari tells me you’re getting married. Congrats.”

“Thanks.”

“So, the usual for Marinette and for you?”

“I’ll have the same.”

“Two cappuccinos, coming up.”

“No, wait,” Alya frowned. “Since when do you drink cappuccino?”

Luka chuckled, he’d heard this conversation several times now and still found it amusing. “Okay, one cappuccino with cinnamon and one double shot latte with almond syrup. To go?”

“Yes please, Luka,” Marinette said, ignoring Alya’s perplexed looks. “Can you make them large. Oh, and a double espresso, too.”

They arrived at the atelier moments before Gino. He was accompanied by a tall blonde woman who waved a polite greeting at Marinette and Alya before hugging him goodbye. She walked away from them, all poise and elegance and Marinette wondered if she was a model for Gino. There was something vaguely familiar about her, but she couldn’t put her finger on what.

“Emmy is here to check up on my boutiques,” Gino explained. “The latest gilet jaune riots were very close to one of them. I need to reassure my staff of their safety.”

Marinette nodded her understanding, the Champs Elysee had been badly hit and one of the Valletta boutiques was on Avenue Montaigne, just around the corner. Gino shook his head, as if to chase away the negativity.

“Marinette, wonderful to see you again!” He kissed her cheeks before turning his attention to Alya. “And, is this beautiful enchantress, Alya?”

She blushed and held her hand out for Gino to shake.

“Now do you see when I designed her dress the way I did?”

“I can indeed. Shall we get inside and reveal it?”

Alya nodded eagerly, uncharacteristically quiet. Marinette assumed she was overwhelmed by the situation. Fashion was Marinette’s comfort zone, not hers. Of course, nervousness was a given; she  _ was _ about to see her wedding dress for the first time. For all of Marinette’s concern over whether Alya would like the design, Alya must be fretting about how to tell her friend if it wasn't what she expected.

Neither of them need have worried.

Marinette had been working on the finishing touches of the beadwork late into the night so the dress was already set up in the centre of her atelier. As they entered the room, the sun emerged from behind the clouds and the gown sparkled in the light.

“Oh, Marinetta! Bellissima!!”

While Gino flustered around the dress, Marinette looked to where fresh tears welled in Alya’s eyes.

“Is that really for me?” She asked.

Marinette set the coffees on her desk, far away from the gown. “Of course, Al. You deserve the most beautiful wedding dress possible.”

“It is beautiful, thank you.”

Alya flung her arms around Marinette, lifting her off the ground and spinning her around. At the airport, the act had been one of enthusiasm. This time, it was full of gratitude. In one tight squeeze, Marinette felt forgiven for not confiding in her best friend all this time. As Alya crushed the breath from her lungs, Marinette finally felt able to properly relax in her company.

“Try it on,” Marinette said. Beside her, Gino nodded eagerly.

Alya puffed out her cheeks and exhaled slowly. It was as if she was psyching herself up to put the dress on.

Marinette giggled. “It won’t bite you.”

“Is it going to fit?”

“I hope so, I used the measurements you sent me, but I left a little leeway in case they were off at all. That’s what today is for, though. Fitting the dress.”

While Alya went behind the room divider, Marinette carefully released the zipper hidden in one of the side seams of the dress. Looking over a Gino, she suppressed a laugh, he was dancing on the tips of his toes, eager to see how it looked on Alya. He was like an excited child. This was the first of her designs to be made into a garment so she understood his anticipation, but his nervous energy was starting to transfer to her. She could feel butterflies swooping inside her stomach as she passed the dress to Alya.

A tense few minutes passed until Alya called out. “I need help with the buttons.”

Marinette realised her fingers were trembling as she fastened the back of the halterneck. She took Alya’s hand and led her out from behind the screen, to the full length mirror. The butterflies merged into a giant lump in her throat at the look of wonderment on her friend’s face.

“I love it. Thank you, Marinette.”

The white satin gown was almost perfect. It skimmed Alya’s figure until it reached mid-thigh, where it flared out to the floor. The classic trumpet silhouette was made more reminiscent of the Eiffel Tower with crisscrossing silver tulle on the bodice and overlay on the skirt. Hundreds of tiny glass beads, like the twinkling lights on the tower at night, shimmered and sparkled. Marinette could see some areas where the fit wasn’t quite right but the effect was there.

Gino pulled a comically large Paisley patterned handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed tears from his cheeks. Alya grinned.

“Oh, Alya. You will be the most beautiful bride in Paris. No, the world! This dress is extraordinary and you are the ideal woman to wear it,” Gino gushed.

“Thank you, it’s more amazing than I imagined.” Alya winked at her in the mirror. “I’ve always known how talented Marinette is, but this is beyond anything she’s designed before.”

Delight and relief course through Marinette’s veins. Gino approved and Alya was happy, that was all she needed. She strapped her pin cushion to her wrist and started to adjust the waist, before kneeling down to the hem while Gino clucked behind her.

“I think, my dear Alya, that you and I are witnessing the debut of this country’s next legendary fashion designer.”

“I don’t think so,” Alya insisted. “I  _ know _ it.”


	21. Fête

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, little darling of mine, I can’t for the life of me  
> Remember a sadder day, that now they say let be  
> Just don't recount on me in the course of a lifetime run  
> Over and over again  
> No I would not give no false hope  
> On this strange and mournful day  
> But the mother and child reunion  
> Is only a motion away”
> 
> Mother and Child Reunion, Paul Simon

Marinette had transformed the apartment in a matter of hours. Soft lighting, flowers, and foliage made the place seem romantic and inviting. The dusky pink dress she wore matched the flowers and her face glowed with excitement. Adrien’s heart swelled with pride.

“You know, we could keep it like this when you move in.” He wrapped his arms around her and whispered in her ear.

She laughed. “Kitty, I'm a designer, not a florist. Do you have any idea how much hard work this was?”

“I don't have the first idea, but you can do anything, Princess. I believe in you.”

“That may be but this is a one-off, special occasion effort. Speaking of which, Nino and Alya are going to be here soon and you're not dressed.”

“Are you going to help me? For old-time’s sake?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Marinette rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I bought you a couple of shirts, go pick one and put it on, please. I have to get the food ready.”

He was almost at the bedroom door when he stopped and turned back to her. “Princess?”

“Yes, there are macarons,” she said, laying pastries out on a platter.

“That’s good to know, but I was actually going to say something else.” Marinette looked up at him. “I love you.”

She threw a mini eclair at him and he caught it with cat-like reflexes. “Don’t make me cry! I haven’t got time to redo my makeup!”

The shirts Marinette bought him were in his bedroom, as promised. One was a soft blue Oxford-style; the other was more formal: black with bright green lining the cuffs, collar, and button placket. He decided on the black one; it would look smartest with his jeans. Before getting dressed, he sat at his desk to eat his eclair and thumbed through the postcards he kept there. The last one his mother sent him was from Florence, months ago. He wondered where she was now, wondered if he’d see her again. She fled Gabriel, and Paris, for her own safety and since his father went to prison Adrien always hoped she’d return. He wanted to thank her for intervening with Marinette. Even more so, he wanted her to meet Marinette, wanted to show her the bright, vivacious woman who had captured his heart.

Behind the postcards, he found an old photograph, one of the few he managed to rescue from the mansion before he left. It was of him and his mother, beneath the fig tree behind Hôtel Barbes. Adrien recalled the day it was taken. They had visited Le Jardin Rosiers-Joseph Migneret and he played in the play area while his mother lazed on the grass watching him. She seemed so relaxed, so carefree. Years later, he realised that it was one of the rare occasions they’d been out without Gabriel. After Emilie ‘disappeared’, he often went to the gardens and sat under the fig tree to remember his mother.

Perhaps it was time to return.

“Adrien! The guests have arrived!”

He shook his head to clear some of the melancholy and pulled on his shirt. Tonight was about Nino and Alya; he would dwell on his own problems later. Plagg darted into the room as soon as he opened the door and there was a momentary pang of envy as he watched him settle into his favourite chair.

“Hey.” Marinette’s hand touched his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

He knew his smile was half-hearted but he hoped his nod would convince her. Of course, she saw through both. Marinette raised herself up on tiptoes and placed a tender kiss on his cheek.  

“You’re not. Is it work? Do you want to talk about it?”

He took her hand. “I do want to talk about it, but it can wait until after we celebrate our friends.”

“You sure?”

“I promise.” This time, his smile was genuine.

“I hate to interrupt this sweet moment, guys,” Max interjected, “but people are asking where to put the coats.”

“I’ll take them.” Marinette held out her arms. “I can convince Plagg not to roll in them better than Adrien can.”

He laughed. That was true, the cat was almost as smitten with Marinette as he was. After she moved in, Adrien felt sure that the two would conspire against him and wondered how much sway he held with Tikki the ladybug.

“So, Marc and Nate are already pouring drinks and Tom and Marlena are dealing with the food. Is there anything I can do?”

“Marinette is the one in charge tonight, but it sounds like it’s under control. Thanks though, Max. Just enjoy yourself.”

Adrien looked around the room. Everyone seemed relaxed and happy. Tom was providing food in his usual, jovial manner with Marlena beaming by his side. Marc was chatting with Sabine while Nathaniel handed out flutes of champagne to everyone who passed. Kim, Nora and Alix were already engaged in some kind of physical challenge; Ivan, Mylene, Nino and Otis were talking animatedly on the sofa, and Chloé was laughing about something with Rose and Juleka. By the window, Alya stood alone, looking at the view. He picked up two glasses of champagne and took them over.

“Santé!” He held a glass out to Alya. She took it and drank deeply.

“So, this is The Window? I’m glad you cleaned the ass prints off it for tonight, it’s much appreciated.”

“Oh, god,” he groaned.

“That’s what she said.”

Adrien’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. He had told Nino all about his and Marinette’s first date, including their encounter at the window, so it made sense that she would have told Alya everything, too. That was back when they didn’t know the identities of their best friends. Right now, he’d give anything to go back in time and stop those conversations from happening.

“I’m going to go die now, have a fun party.”

“Adrien, wait! I’m teasing.” She grabbed his forearm. “Actually, I owe you an apology and a debt of gratitude, so you have to stay.”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“I do. I’m sorry I’ve been shutting you out. I guess I was jealous that Marinette opened up to you and not me.”

“Alya, it wasn’t like that…”

“I know. I get it now. Which is where the debt of gratitude comes along. Thank you for being there for my Maribug when I couldn’t be. You were exactly what she needed to break free from that asshat Gabriel and I’m glad you were there.”

She didn’t apologise for calling Gabriel and asshat, she didn’t even add a ‘no offence’ and that told Adrien all he needed to know. She didn’t blame him for what his father did to Marinette. Alya understood his past and still accepted his relationship with Marinette.

He hugged her. “Thank you, Alya. Your seal of approval is important to me.”

She stiffened in his arms for a moment before relaxing into his embrace. When she finally pulled away, her eyes glistened.

“Okay, Buttercup, that’s enough emotion for tonight. I’ve reached my limit for sappiness.”

“If you’ve already had enough, you should leave before the toasts begin,” Adrien chuckled. “I’ve heard what your fiance and your best friend are planning to say, and this moment here? It’s a drop in the emotional ocean.”

Alya groaned.

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

It was after 4am when Adrien closed the door behind the last guest.

Adrien exhaled slowly. “It’s so late! You’re staying here tonight, right?”

“What’s left of the night, yes.” She laughed.

Adrien wearily pulled her towards him and coiled his arms around her, enveloping her in his warmth. “Thank you for organising this. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

He kissed the top of her head and Marinette felt a surge of affection towards him. She was still buzzing from the party and didn’t feel like sleeping yet. She tilted her head up and captured Adrien’s lips with hers.

“Ew! We don’t want to see that!”

_ Damn. _ Marinette had forgotten that Alya and Nino were crashing at Adrien’s.

“Sorry Al, you’re going to have to get used to it,” Adrien said before kissing her so deeply, Marinette let out an involuntary moan.

“I already apologised for shunning you, Sunshine! Stop punishing me!”

“Give them a break, Al. It’s sweet.” Nino leaned over the back of the sofa. “Gross, but sweet.”

“Your complaints would be more valid if you hadn’t spent six months of your lives trying to set us up with each other.” Marinette giggled.

Adrien chuckled and squeezed her tighter. She relaxed into his arms while Alya pulled a face and looked at Nino.

“This is your fault.”

“I’m happy to take the credit, babe, but they did this on their own.”

“If you two are going to argue about this, I’m going to take my girlfriend to bed.” Adrien started towards the bedroom.

“Urgh, fine. Don’t make too much noise though, okay?”

“Alya! We’re going to sleep!”

“Hey, I’m not judging you.”

“You’re judging hard, babe.”

“Goodnight!”

Marinette closed the bedroom door, Alya and Nino still arguing on the other side. Adrien’s eyes kept darting to his desk and he seemed restless. She remembered he’d been distracted at the start of the night.

“Do you want to sleep? Or, we can talk about what’s on your mind?”

Adrien tried to smile but it crumpled into a frown. “I miss my mother.”

“Oh, Adrien!” Marinette climbed on the bed and wrapped her arms around him.

She let him talk.

“I just… I hoped she’d come back to Paris after Gabriel was locked up but she didn’t. Now, I have you in my life and I wish she could meet you. I don’t know… I guess I see Nino and Alya preparing their wedding with their parents and I can’t help but feel I’ll be alone when you and I marry.”

A tear trickled down his cheek and Marinette wiped it away with her finger. Her heart broke for him and she wondered if she could help him track her down. Didn’t Chloé say a family friend helped Emilie escape? Did they know where she was now?

Abruptly, Adrien stood up and went to his desk and picked up an old photograph. “This is her.”

Fighting the urge to squeal at the image of cherubic child Adrien, she studied the photo. Adrien looked a lot like her, from the blonde hair and the earnest green eyes to the relaxed smile. Emilie was beautiful, she projected elegance, even through this informal pose.

“She looks…” Through a fog of tiredness, something triggered a memory. Older, yes, but the heart-shaped face and graceful demeanour was the same. “...familiar.”

“What?!”

“Adrien, I met her last week. She was in Paris.”


	22. Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Little do you know  
> How I'm breaking while you fall asleep  
> Little do you know  
> I'm still haunted by the memories  
> Little do you know  
> I'm trying to pick myself up piece by piece  
> Little do you know  
> I need a little more time  
> Underneath it all I'm held captive by the hole inside  
> I've been holding back  
> For the fear that you might change your mind  
> I'm ready to forgive you, but forgetting is a harder fight  
> Little do you know  
> I need a little more time”
> 
> Little Do You Know, Alex & Sierra

“Are you going to eat that falafel, Mar?”

“What?” Marinette had forgotten Alya and Nino were even there as she pushed her food around the plate. “Oh, um, yeah, you can have them.”

Nino leaned across the table and flipped the last of her lunch onto his plate. Alya’s brow creased.

“She might be hungry later, don't be such a vulture.”

“I'll buy more if she needs.” Nino popped a falafel in his mouth and chewed noisily. “He’s going to be okay, you know? He’s reuniting with his mum.”

Marinette shook her head. “He had to find out from me that she was even in Paris. He’s hurt and angry.”

It hadn’t been difficult to get the information she needed from Gino. He was honest to a fault and as soon as she explained that she’d seen a photograph of Emilie Agreste who bore a striking resemblance to his friend, Emmy, he told her everything.

After he and Audrey Bourgeois helped Emilie escape, she stayed at his mansion outside of Milan for a few weeks while Audrey left for New York. Gino escorted her there himself and helped her move into an apartment in Midtown Manhattan, one he kept for business trips to the city. Audrey lived nearby and was on hand to support her and help her adjust to her new life her but she had enough independence to rebuild her life. She started with her name. Overnight, Emilie Agreste became Emmeline Fingal, Emmy to her friends.

Then, Gabriel visited New York for Fashion Week and Emmy fled. For years, she refused to stay in one place for more than a year—she was terrified her husband might track her down. Gino offered her a job in his company, one that required a lot of travel. She felt safest when she was on the move. She hadn't returned to Paris until this visit, worried that Nathalie or someone else loyal to Gabriel might see her. Even though Nathalie was still in police custody, she only came back because Gino promised to accompany her and booked her hotel suite in the company name, not hers.

Marinette had to barter for her contact details, in the end, she allowed Gino to pass on a message from her on Adrien’s behalf. Keeping a level of remove between Emmy and Adrien was intended to lessen the hurt. Marinette knew that for Adrien, it deepened the sting.

Through a series of Gino-said-that-your-mother-said conversations that tore Adrien up from the inside, they finally arranged to meet at the park in the photo Adrien showed her. When Gino pushed her for a meeting place, it was the first thing that came to mind. She hoped she hadn't marred the last happy place Adrien associated with his mother.

She, Alya and Nino vowed to stay close by while the meeting took place. They ordered lunch in a bustling Israeli restaurant and tried to relax and enjoy their food. Instead, they sat in anxious silence while Nino stress-ate and Marinette lost a staring contest with a mixed pita.

“I wonder how it’s going?” Alya spoke all of their minds.

“I just hope she turned up,” Marinette said. “I’m worried she’ll spook and run away before Adrien gets his answers.”

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

The sprawling fig tree had been allowed to grow unchecked in the small hotel garden. Twisted branches reached towards the sun, providing shelter for all who sat beneath it. It was much larger than Adrien remembered. He allowed himself a bitter laugh at the irony that while he was stifled and restricted in the expansive mansion, this tree had the freedom to spread its branches wide within its walls. Was it possible to feel jealousy towards a tree?

The last time he’d been here, it had been the tiny private garden to Hôtel Barbes. Now, the garden had been linked to two others to create a larger public space. Hidden between rue des Rosiers and rue des Franc Bourgeois, one could walk down either street every day and not know of its existence. Once you found it, you might never want to leave.

In spite of that, Adrien was fighting an impulse to run and not look back. His mother had been in Paris for over a week and didn’t try to contact him. Marinette convinced Gino to pass on his message to meet here but now but, as he waited to see her again, he was having doubts. How many other times had she come to the city? Why didn’t she get in touch? She knew his address, she sent postcards to him. Yet, she never once tried to connect with him. Without Marinette, he might have spent his life wondering where his mother was.

Maybe that would have been better for both of them?

He should leave.

“Adrien?”

The familiarity of the voice was jarring, the decades hadn’t changed his memory of it. It was timid, soft. His defences crumbled and he turned to face the source.

“Mère?”

Her hair was now a golden blonde; still long and wavy but with strands of grey peeking out from the temples. Wrinkles creased her forehead and eyes and her skin looked more weathered and tanned. Crow’s feet crinkled when she smiled at him. Her eyes, though, were exactly the same.

“My son!” She stepped forward to embrace him and he stepped back.

The urge to run returned.

“I- I’m sorry.” Emilie held her hands up as if surrendering. “It’s too much too soon, I know.”

“No, it’s too little too late.”

Emilie flinched and her smile became thin. He’d been harsh, he knew, but he refused to hide the pain she caused him. She left him alone in that house, with that man. He was a child and she saved herself without a second thought for what might happen to him. He understood that she had to flee. She needed to escape Gabriel’s oppression. He needed that too.

“I’m sorry Adrien.”

“Are you?” Tears pricked his eyes but he refused to let them fall. “You were meant to protect me from him. You didn’t. You left.”

She bowed her head at his reproach. “Will you let me explain? I don’t expect forgiveness but I’d like to tell you my side.”

He nodded curtly, not trusting his voice to stay steady if he spoke. Emilie led them towards a bench and sat down. Adrien perched on the edge of the seat, ready to run if he felt the need to again.

“I loved G- Ga- your father.” She couldn’t even say his name. “I thought he loved me so I was happy to do the things he wanted. I thought it was for the best. I trusted that he was protecting us when, really, he was isolating us. He would put me down in subtle ways until I had no confidence left, I believed that I was a bad wife, terrible mother and a stupid, boring person who nobody wanted to be friends with.

She paused to push a tear from her cheek.

“Then, I found out about his affair with Nathalie and it was like the betrayal woke me up from the nightmare. I saw him for who he truly was.”

“And that was when you decided to save yourself and leave me to the wolves,” Adrien sneered.

“No! I tried to take you, I really did. Ga- He had your passport, I couldn't get to it.”

“Please! France is a big country. You could have taken me and gone to someplace rural in the north or south of the country and he wouldn’t have known where to find us. Instead, you did what was best for you.”

In the silence that followed, the sounds of children playing, couples laughing and the wind rustling through the trees seemed alien to him, like something he could no longer enjoy.

“I tried!”

“Not hard enough.”

“You have no idea what G- that man was like!”

“He’s not Voldemort, for god’s sake. His name is Gabriel and I know _exactly_ what he was like… _is_ like. It’s you who has no idea.”

“Adrien! Wait!”

It was too late, he was already striding away, towards the street.

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

Nino saw him first.

“Wait, was that..? Oh, no,”

Marinette was on her feet before he finished his sentence. “Alya?”

“Emmy. Got it.”

On the street, Marinette spied Adrien’s blonde head bobbing above the rest of the crowds. Whatever had upset him, anger was driving him forwards and she had to run to catch up with him.

“Adrien!”

He spun around, a rebuke on his lips. He had been expecting his mother to chase him. On seeing Marinette, his expression softened and tears rolled down his face. She pulled him close and hugged him tightly. They didn’t speak, they didn’t need to. Adrien wept and Marinette felt his tears settle in her hair. She didn’t know how long they stood there, lost in Adrien’s sadness, regret and bitterness.

“She- she gave up on me so easily,” he said. “It was too difficult to take me so she looked after herself instead.”

“Oh, Adrien,” Marinette rubbed his back until his sobs subsided.

She looked up. His eyes were rimmed with red and tears streaked his face. His hair was dishevelled and his shoulders slumped. He was defeated. She took his hand.

“Let’s go home, Adrien. I’ll text Alya to let her know we’ve gone.”

He nodded, still sniffing. “Are we going to you flat or mine?”

“Ours.”

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

“Mme Fingal?” The woman looked up. “I’m Alya, we met briefly, before. I’m a friend of Adrien’s.”

There was much of Adrien in her features, particularly her eyes. Alya was sure they would sparkle and shine like Adrien’s under other circumstances but now, they looked scared.

“Oh, yes. I remember you.”

“May I sit with you?”

Emmy’s head dipped and Alya took that as permission to sit next to her. She turned so she was facing Emmy and smiled. A tentative smile was returned.

“Thank you for checking on me. Is Adrien okay?”

Alya shrugged. “‘Okay’ is a relative term but Marinette is with him and they bring out the best in each other, I’m sure he’ll be fine. Are you okay?”

“No.” The word came out in a humourless laugh. “I should have known he’d feel betrayed by what I did. It’s just…”

Alya felt only a slight pinch of guilt as she set her phone to record. “Why don’t you tell me about it? It’ll help to get things off your chest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all know how much I love a name with a good meaning behind it. Fingal is a Gaelic name that means 'fair stranger' which I thought was fitting for a blonde woman who was trying to hide where she came from. Emmeline is for Emmeline Pankhurst, the woman's rights activist and suffragette, who I think would approve of Emilie's drive to be independent from Gabriel's oppressive influence.


End file.
